Don Thompson
Piedras Blancas
1.Even elephant seals start small
As pink thumbs in the womb, born black
On a white sheet of sea gulls that shriek,
Feasting on afterbirth. Like slackAnd fat, overstuffed milk sausage,
Weaned in a moon without regret
And left here to do what they will,
They have nothing to do. Not yet.
2.
The pups lie still among their dead—
Smothered by careless bulls, egoists
With pink combat scars and the tusks
To rip chunks out of touristsWho climb over the fence to take
Snapshots of Rubenesque harems
Or gross, anomalous noses
That thunk warning like wooden drums.
3.
Since life at sea begins in dreams,
They sleep. Look at them flip the sand,
Pelagic non-swimmers until
They wake hungry and understand,Haul down to the surf and launch themselves
Into excess, absurd in scale.
Gluttons for loneliness, they go
Farther, deeper than any whale.
Bio:
Don Thompson has been published hither and yon for the past forty years. Recent chapbooks include Been There, Done That (2003) and Turning Sixty (2006), both from March Street Press.
