to a dead cormorant

cormorant

Already in the sand the black feathers
wings splayed and twisted neck
so confused with driftwood shells
it took that little beakend hook
to see suddenly and then draw from
the chaos the lost order
the vision of sleek magnificence
how you must once have stood
in afternoon sun hooked wings open
feathers spread drying yourself
after diving deep in the dark bay
you with your two elements only now
binding to this third not yours at all
it seems already it’s started
the inert reclaiming from flight
from soaring diving this you carried
feathers flesh bone You give it back now
abandoned but where o where are you?

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