Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Jesus Gulls: A Poem by a Real Poet
Jesus Gulls
.................................
The Jesus gulls walk lightly
On the water over thinning harbour ice.
They scrap and scree,
Over small and odd little bits of flesh.
The smelt shack fisherman is a drunken
Face of stubble and hand of knarling wood.
He wears fingerless gloves
Of shaking black and fading wool.
The smelt shack fisherman brings his gun
He waits for the day his vision clears,
There on the ice a crack and then
When bullet pierces pectoral muscle
Shattering fused spine and a gull implodes.
He'll cry! A great shot!
Twenty-two from forty yards.
The gulls will circle briefly and forgive
The smelt shack fisherman of all sin.
Perhaps they will eat their fallen friend
Perhaps they will leave it for the thaw.
They know this in their heart of hearts
The innocent have no mercy.
.................................
Scott Cudmore
.................................
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Copyright © Scott Cudmore
April 1996 - of Stratford, Prince Edward Island
