Seal Team
The crass cries of two terns veering
in small circles while making a larger circle
around a round patch of roughened water
disturbing the gentle wrinkles in the bay,
sounded like the mocking cackles mean girls
make when they torture a weaker girl
in the girls’ room who’s made the mistake
of wanting to be liked. I remarked on it.
Glassy platter sized welts were belching up
and wobbling like jello in a splotch
the size of a helipad, and since we often stop
to watch life making death, we made
ourselves comfortable on a bench
in memory of someone to wait, pretending
patience for the two seals torpedoing
a tightening circle around a shoal of herring
to make silver arcs rip through the surface
rukus and splash right down like belly flops.
Above, terns, whose screechy gyrations
are always a sign, were dipping up shiny scraps.
For those who call Nature their church,
this interval could be called worship,
I suppose. Who knows how birds squawking
to each other could make one remember
a frosted glass window with GIRLS
written on it? Not worth mentioning,
really. Finally the seals poked their heads
up for a breather, bigger than cantaloupes,
smaller than basketballs. After sulking
about together for bit they slowly V-ed off
separately toward the deep channel,
becoming dots. Then, presto, right then
and there, disappeared whithersoever.
in small circles while making a larger circle
around a round patch of roughened water
disturbing the gentle wrinkles in the bay,
sounded like the mocking cackles mean girls
make when they torture a weaker girl
in the girls’ room who’s made the mistake
of wanting to be liked. I remarked on it.
Glassy platter sized welts were belching up
and wobbling like jello in a splotch
the size of a helipad, and since we often stop
to watch life making death, we made
ourselves comfortable on a bench
in memory of someone to wait, pretending
patience for the two seals torpedoing
a tightening circle around a shoal of herring
to make silver arcs rip through the surface
rukus and splash right down like belly flops.
Above, terns, whose screechy gyrations
are always a sign, were dipping up shiny scraps.
For those who call Nature their church,
this interval could be called worship,
I suppose. Who knows how birds squawking
to each other could make one remember
a frosted glass window with GIRLS
written on it? Not worth mentioning,
really. Finally the seals poked their heads
up for a breather, bigger than cantaloupes,
smaller than basketballs. After sulking
about together for bit they slowly V-ed off
separately toward the deep channel,
becoming dots. Then, presto, right then
and there, disappeared whithersoever.
