A Late Winter Gull Pantoum

The mourning gulls, still, whiten the rocks
as winter stretches out toward spring;
the sparse, hoarded light of yesterdays
slowly relinquished by heavy eyes.

As winter stretches out toward spring,
like a reluctant child clinging to sleep
(slowly relinquished by heavy eyes),
the harbour heaves and tosses under ice.

Like a reluctant child clinging to sleep
on a day suddenly flooded with light,
the harbour heaves and tosses under ice
thin and treacherous as memory.

On a day suddenly flooded with light—
the sparse, hoarded light of yesterdays,
thin and treacherous as memory—
the morning gulls still whiten the rocks.*

*A revision of this poem can be found here.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Charlottetown, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Memory, New poems, Pantoum, Poem tweets, Poetry, Spring, The Brain, The Sea, The Sky, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to A Late Winter Gull Pantoum

  1. Pingback: A Late Winter Gull Pantoum (Revision, 7th draft) | Mumbling Jack

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