I wrote this poem after a ferry ride where I watched gulls at sea appear to drink salt water. When we got home I researched whether seabirds could indeed quench their thirst with water straight from the ocean. I found that they could! Their beaks and bodies are adapted for this.
The work in this journal made me fall in love with aspects of nature all over again! And many of the pieces, including mine, have sound recordings to accompany the print poems. You can read the issue at:
https://www.splitrockreview.org/issue-22. My poem is below:
I watch from the ferry, a gull
at sea scoop, tip her head,
swallow water poison to my human
throat. Such luxury to have
the whole ocean to quench
one need. In seabirds
excess salt pulses through the
bloodstream to a pair of glands
set just above the eyes,
beyond both taste and scent,
where I have two sinuses
of open space said to balance
the skull of my expression
as if the gull, the tern, the cormorant
evolved beyond mere human
emptiness. From the birds’ brow
a tear forms, runs down the grooved
bill, within troughs so narrow
they go unnoticed by the casual eye,
until a single crystal glint appears,
clings to the unkissable lip waiting
to become its own rain and return
what waves demand: mineral
responsible, somehow, for the heart,
its regular, irregular emotions,
like envy for how naturally
the bird floats, endures cold, simply
drinks in the world around her.