White Gull

A white gull wails
on a windy beach
some place in time,
if you can call it a beach,
I wouldn’t call it a beach,
I’d call it:

Broken stones
on the earth’s bare bones
with icy breakers
that have no home,
black icy breakers
on a broken beach,
so bruised and broken,
bruised and broken.

A white gull wails
inside this room,
it hovers low,
its shadow looms,
this bare white room,
this lonely room.
so bruised and broken,
bruised and broken.

dreamstimefree_189676
c. Pilar Echeverria | Dreamstime.com

8 Replies to “White Gull”

    1. thanks oldmainer – this one came virtually in one go – a bit like a chant – I pretty much left it alone.

      Like

    1. Thanks very much. I’m so glad you liked this one. I think in truth I’d been staring at a white ceiling for too long and it somehow took me a desolate shore. I should probably get out more.

      Like

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