The last Auk, 1852
was found with menhaden
and capelin
and a series of letters from you.
I weep for the Auk,
the last of its kind, alone.
with its feet on rock, its beak in the breeze,
and a feeling for you in its bones.
Is it the fault of the Auk that its dreams of flight
were scuttled by wings too small?
Was it soothed by Hughes, rent by Plath?
Did it feel anything at all?
It had no mate,
no egg, no day of comfort in the future.
Stuffed on a stand, it asked for your hand
to tenderly tie the last suture.
____________
This teared me up yesterday when I first read it, and more so on the second time round. It's a sweet lament, a dirge without drama, that lays bare the loneliness of all solitary things, prisoners of their genes, doomed through no fault of their own by simple Darwinian progression. The last stanza with its perfect cadence and rhyme is some of the best poetry I've ever read. You are an amazing talent, Shay.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful in it's raw feeling of loss. I love the rhyme and questions raised. This poem is definitely one to read and hold close. A gorgeous and lovely poem my friend!
ReplyDeleteThat last line pierces like a needle. Haunting!
ReplyDeleteA vanishing preserved by a phantom "you" - the ghost of something else, love lost, a sweetness now dust. How many species are now a nothing unsutured.
ReplyDeleteSo sad!! but a poetic gem.
ReplyDeleteOh, that last stanza is perfect. I am in awe.
ReplyDeleteThe lonely auk..........so beautifully and achingly described. Sigh. Fantastic writing, Shay. Lovely to see you at earthweal.
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