FALL/ WINTER 2011

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Gladys Henderson

CALLS OF THE GULL

       We follow the fishing trawlers
wait for the sacrament
         of rejected fish, the blood
                and oil of their broken bodies
             to be released from the holding wells
requiem on the cobalt rush
       that breaks beneath the bow.  
            
       We travel until we can go
no longer, the ship’s mission beyond our reach,
              its promises held outside our strength. 
In the thin strands of foam
                  that trace the endings of waves,
we still our bodies and call to each other—
       these unheard hymns of resignation.


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