Mothers Beach, Kennebunk, Paul Nelson

Michael Diehl, Saturated Heaviness




In blue gray morning coat and white vest the big gull
blusters about, circled by one kin and six of lesser brand
all dancing as if something ripe really stinks “over here”
on the dry sand …to distract it from the palm sized dab
it drops and hacks, drops and hacks, its puffed entirety
keeping all at bay,

knowing their antic need should never make them fraught,
stupid and weak by mercy or their own gratitude it batters
the flat, pathetic fish, shreds the darkside eyes, softens flesh
to make it fold like a wallet,

to teach them, guide them, as it deftly flips the dead thing
up in the air with red tipped beak, opens its gullet wider
than an operatic yawn to show the lavish pulsing heart
of just who gets to swallow things whole.

Paul Nelson


Scroll to Top