To the flounder, the gull pecked and pecked
While the river ran by; silty, salty, nonchalant.
And the flounder said (although long dead),
Do not eat me— for I am wise, and steadfast;
I have travelled wide and far and clung to tide
Enduring the sheer selfish burdens of man.
And the gull pecked and pecked, desecrating
The limp, tear-dropped form of foul fish flesh
Stripping, ripping fin, scale, tail, eye all alike.
The flounder thought hard (although dead),
As the gull attempted to swallow the fellow.
The river: grey, murky and miserably tardy,
Mumbled something, subsiding gradually
In the low of the day, to which the old gull
Replied, harping, sqwaking, flapping still.