Gulf
for M.V.
Which looms wider, its sky or water? The birds, here, too,
reconvene in greater streaks. This morning I stomped around
Paisano, examining the grasses and soil, the rocks and various
configurations of clouds, and listened to experts discuss
prescribed burns and how the land’s contours can determine
sequence and efficacy. The mockingbird whose territory
we occupy has disappeared. Perhaps he’s just moved on.
I heard a red-bellied woodpecker yesterday, but never saw it,
and of course the rattlers at the ranch are still underfoot, just
less apparent this time of year. I looked closely, as always,
but never spied one. What else did I miss? The rich people
on the bluffs bulldoze habitat, poison creeks and erect their
Italianate villas, caring not a whit for the breeding warblers
or the landscape, although they might pony up a few bucks
for an environmental charity if sucked-up to properly. Given
a choice between the two, I’d pick the snakes every time;
they don’t smile or offer spiked drinks and stories of their
conquests, and usually warn before striking. Even a minor
deity might take offense and crack open a new fault in the
earth between this place and theirs, widening it by inches
with each presumption, every falsehood, whether shaded
in unrelated facts or illogic, until that shifting space could
be spanned solely by a bridge planked with truth and good
manners, and, yes, by mutual consent. Looking back, I
find many examples of these bridges collapsing in utero,
but we keep trying. Your story of the gulf coast storm
reminded me of weeks spent on calm water, and seeing,
no matter where I turned, blue meeting blue, from horizon
to horizon, the sky never broken by bird or cloud, born
anew each day, always looking between, never down.
“Gulf” was published in West Texas Literary Review in March 2017.
O at the Edges 
I really like this one, Robert. I’ve read it over a few times, and I keep picking out lines I like–though it’s the whole thing. 🙂
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Thanks, Merril! One of my more expansive poems. 🙂
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Yes. Hahaha. But you’ve done others that are sort of letters to people.
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This is, in essence, one of those!
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Yes, that’s what I thought.
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The person to whom it was written had been stalked for years, and I didn’t want to invoke his name. The stalker actually approached me once, asking for information as to his whereabouts…
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Yikes. Scary!
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It went on for at least a decade. Surreal.
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Wow. I’m working on a book on sexual harassment, and I’ve read some scary stuff about stalking. I hope your friend is OK.
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He’s fine, and it appears to be over. I’m glad I’ve never had to experience that sort of discomfort.
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Yet even the waters have their snakes, swimming about in oil spills. Let’s hope their beauty can survive.
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Let’s hope, Ken!
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Let’s pray to the minor deities – possibly mankind’s only hope, as we seem inclined to make poor choices blindly – we could benefit from divine interference!
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I’m all for interference from the minor deities! The major ones have failed us thus far.
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