Fresh corpse of
a baby gull
splayed against a
shore rock.
Feathers, guts, skin
case, stain,
the sections of the
skeleton
like parts of a pictograph,
neck, skull, eye
hole, keel,
ribs, ilium, wing
bones, claws,
thing that had not
flown long
dropped by an
eagle or hawk.
The tide will
find it in an hour
and take what is
left of it,
but for now the
bones manacle
the carcass to
the dry rock
while the shore
rats run out
of nests to get
at it. Sunlight
embraces it. The
thief of fire
deep within the
rock drinks
and eats it and lives
forever.

Terrific poem Russell! Thanks for sharing it.
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