I took this photo of stalking seagulls thinking of the line from Predator: "Let's move. Five meter spread. No sound!" Later, I wrote this poem.
Beach Day
Advancing gulls
deep dive
for debris.
They want
to gulp
your summer,
revere
wrapping left
to the wind,
walk up
to the warmth
of burnt bodies.
And all
their wild
life flight
is for you,
sandy blanket
where action is.
Beach Day
Advancing gulls
deep dive
for debris.
They want
to gulp
your summer,
revere
wrapping left
to the wind,
walk up
to the warmth
of burnt bodies.
And all
their wild
life flight
is for you,
sandy blanket
where action is.
1 comment:
Beach blanket bingo sequel? Clever poem.
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