Selected Poems

Our Life On the Gulf

At dawn, shrimp boats leave the dock with nets
raised like flimsy, vestigial wings above 
the battered gunwales.  A vortex hums, warmly 
like a French horn, and seagulls spiral 
into the music of the coming storm. 
They rise in ecstasy, then veer and plunge 
to snatch fish they tear apart and swallow 
in mid-air. They squabble over food and position 
like nasty, belligerent children, 
then fold themselves into another current,
and are at ease. The storm is a gray slash 
advancing. Gulls soar in volutes of light,
oblivious as angels.

(published in Pegasus)