Victory Bay

You know that I could live better.
That I bike slower than others,
that I produce a small wobble.

You know too that I’m committed
to the grand lopsidedness of spring.
To the mallards and their stupid bobbing.

When going becomes routine
it is nice to sit by the water.

To let it rise and spill over. To
rub its ears and stroke its back.

Here, what is empty should be.
What is full practices steady substantiation.

The sun is bright enough,
small insects have learned again buzzing sounds,
grass has borne through all grey. 

All the love that can’t be returned
has pooled to level.
Hold its tail, scratch its tummy.

Let it nibble and scrape.

Marco Harnam Kaisth