One, then another —
the gull’s black eyes
like berries,
like glass, like —
her head turns, tilts
impatient, and yet —
and yet with each
strike of gaze
each stab
as her white head twists,
beak slicing
the blind air between us —
with each new prod
of her nightblack eyes
I feel myself
stranger and stranger
until —
nameless in the sun —
cut free —
a body warm and long,
clam without a shell,
unprotected —
definition sliced away
by swift bold beak cuts —
stripped bare
by sun, by breeze
by ceaseless ocean roar
by merciless black eyes —
Only then I’ll be ready
cleansed
to swim in the swell
of your green sea eyes.
Beyond Breakers 