Untitled XI.
I.
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.
II.
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.
III.
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.