Losing Luka
Coy-wolves
Taunting me
Howl every night since he left
To release him to the hills would have been a death sentence
So we took off after the sea
In early August
And when we'd finally arrived
After the rains had come and gone
We found nothing but foamy clumps of weed
Washed ashore with salt-streaked sand showing routes back to the roaring
Pulsing CHOP
Turning inland
The shacks on the bluff fed us sandy chowders with cold
North Atlantic eyes
They wouldn't leave us
Perennial gulls
Overseeing the flux of the near-seafloor
Spoke to us
Warning of their discipline and the new settlements they awaited
There were children still out on the water
Still asking questions.
In early August
And when we'd finally arrived
After the rains had come and gone
We found nothing but foamy clumps of weed
Washed ashore with salt-streaked sand showing routes back to the roaring
Pulsing CHOP
Turning inland
The shacks on the bluff fed us sandy chowders with cold
North Atlantic eyes
They wouldn't leave us
Perennial gulls
Overseeing the flux of the near-seafloor
Spoke to us
Warning of their discipline and the new settlements they awaited
There were children still out on the water
Still asking questions.
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