loons

eighteen ninety. four to form form poured into body in the light of every dawn sleeping or no something is on in time i float stuck stood on ground when on wing up or down with head spinning round once i flew; now in water i gasp chased by birds under boats under my belly…

eighteen ninety.

four to form

form poured into body
in the light of every dawn

sleeping or no
something is on

in time

i float

stuck

stood on ground

when on wing

up or down

with head spinning round

once i flew;

now in water

i gasp

chased by birds under boats

under my belly
under my toes

without my knowing

to float in front of me

chased me and won

i screamed
swam hard

lengthy backstroke

damn loons

beautiful with song

but teeth on

flyers who swim

is nothing i want.

dec 4, 2018 poem i wrote tonight about the loon that chased me while i swam at bearnstow years ago; image from my visit in 2017 – nicole garlando