Black Oystercatcher


S t r a n g e r,
you are striking…

I stare and blink furiously

from here to the horizon
the bay startles, too

Out-there-somewhere
the whelk’s crawl-away young
crawl away

But, stranger you do not crawl–
you lunge and stumble; ridiculous,
humorous gaits.

Moderate antipathy and concern

Back-lit, for many moments, we are almost
never together

Do I never clearly see you?

Stones are broken off here
still, I advance

I negotiate carefully

Somewhere-near-this-place is the rest of our life
the most desirable and worthy
and sought

Now is when the bay waters set ashore

Come back,
and this time I promise
I will not blink
 
By Heather O’Connor

 


Copyright © – 2004 by Heather O’Connor