The Last Lophodytes

My love loves hooded mergansers, absurd

dives into wry arcana. He sees farther than I can

fake and fakes nothing within my gaze.

Vagrants in the wetland, we forest for

the modern. We ebb and flow the winter, forbid

the easy estuaries. So what if a day

in the life of the mind evolves in brackish waters?

A joke about an overrated film, a scoop

of lime moqueca, the sloppy second

before God opts to starve the shore of starlight?

Take it. Take me. This empty beach, endangered

sun, the hungry gulls, all ours.