Posted by in Poems on Aug 11, 2013

The gulls’ wings beat the time

of the ship’s throbbing,

a bloody finger-and-thumb print

on each beak, from a hand


about your size. I’ve heard them

cackling on the corbie steps,

inscrutable, drastic purpose in their eyes,

though I sense your will in them.


The islands rise blue out of a sea

green as your eyes. Your sea?

Lazy flocks of clouds

stray among the hilltops.


Do they veil your mystery?

The world is yours, and I a hostage;

my unransomed heart beats

in time to the wings of your gulls.