The Last Lophodytes
My love loves hooded mergansers, absurd
dives into wry arcana. He sees farther than I can
fake and fakes nothing within my gaze.
Vagrants in the wetland, we forest for
the modern. We ebb and flow the winter, forbid
the easy estuaries. So what if a day
in the life of the mind evolves in brackish waters?
A joke about an overrated film, a scoop
of lime moqueca, the sloppy second
before God opts to starve the shore of starlight?
Take it. Take me. This empty beach, endangered
sun, the hungry gulls, all ours.
