I Ate My Gull Friend
Far adrift from the shores of myself or anything else,
wind and current don't play any favorites
they just do their own silent-timeless-
unravelling dance.
Whittling days into wormwood,
making friends with a chatty gull
or is it just waiting for me to go under
to pluck the shine from my eyes
I vow not to be the first one to go.
Suns move along, the horizon doesn't care,
made some fishing line from a lock of blonde hair
and a lure of hope from the bones of my gull friend.
Nothing I could do, I was famished and floundering.
Besides it knew it was nothing but winged sacrifice.
In a star crushed night
something rammed the side of my flanks
woke to an impish leak
trying to suckle the life out of me.
Then there was a black water silence.
Its not like bad karma to suddenly drift away,
so beneath my leaking float
the rammer will probably stay.
Early morning was spent bailing and patching
luring the silver shoals of hope within range
bailing and patching
nibbling and napping
obsessing
prodding the sharkness away-
Quiet day
no breeze-not even one little wave
a hot brain day
missing my chatty gull friend today,
maybe I was supposed to be its sacrifice.
Launched the final flare at a fancy yacht mirage
filled with cheap bikinis and plush caviar-
had a good giggle then shouted in vain
as a giant barge left me..
a wrinkled leaf twirling in my own wake.
39 driftwood days and nights later
Poseidon kissed my salty- battered bow
I rolled over the dream breakers
and back onto the shores of myself.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
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