Seagull Doesn’t Give a Shit

Fingers shoot up to cover my shame
To grab and strangle sound itself
Hopelessly late
My hopeless words threw you away
My hope and light
Into a cloud
Hot salt expands
In my head and in my hands

The late sunlit summer evening bliss
I miss walk fists
Deep down in pockets
Strain to keep
The rain inside
The welling tide
The waxing pain
Refrain from crying
Suburban street
Move my feet and be discrete
My bleeding inside I can let
When I get and it’s not far
And close the door behind me
When at last I’m in my car

But here
A startling animal cry
I raise my eyes to the sun
Haloed there a seagull triumphant
Stands atop a tiled roof
In its beak it grips its prize
A sunlit summer evening chip
Proud silhouette
My sodden form
Lifts to behold his finest hour
This champion of summer bliss
I missed but now I cast around
And yes
O’ seagull
You are right
The world is magic liminal light
Split from white
And whatever right I had to cast
The blurry light from blurry day
Now I say
Come back to me
I’ll live in you
Come back to me
This time I’ll stay