A squabble of seagulls
holds animated discussions
in the muggy Roman air.
Stalled in the marine layer,
their flights delayed,
they consider a swoop
for espresso,
or the fat fallen oranges
in our wet courtyard.
Their honk-chatter
wakes me from a dream
of home, far-off
memories, strange anger
leaking from bird-quarrel
into stories of sibling
struggles, mom’s
phobias, self-parts
dredged up
and flung
into the Roman
dawn.
9 thoughts on "A squabble of seagulls"
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I love “honk-chatter.” I also love “a swoop for espresso.” There’s something delightful about it. Some subtle alieration in the poem. Today I’d like to dredge up my self-parts and fling them into the Roman dawn!
i love where this poem ‘sets/sits’
sort of hovers in an ‘in between’
difficult to explain/hold
but keeps feeling righter and righter
as it tumbles down the page
and keeps finding more internal ‘lift’.
p.s. also a lot of really great s-words.
It got “righter and righter” for me as the subconscious intruded big time into my poem
leave it to the
ratskin skykings… emperors of the air
(pigeons and seagulls)
to take your there.
the seagulls’ “squabbles” leak into the subconscious memories of “struggles”
Great title!
love these sounds and images:
squabble of seagulls/fat fallen oranges/leaking from bird-quarrel
This puts me right there
I love your made up compounds in this poem, and also the places those random sounds take you.