The Story, Rewritten

Out beyond the sunken shallows,

a saltwater bay,

almost still,

save for one loon.


This loon,


and I sink down,

interpretation low and sad.


I imagine it lost,


its mate long gone:

that storm,

those lights,

that boat.


But if I bend it back,

change the story

I can see it content,

after a morning bath,

she’s clean and alert,

a webbed foot thrust out behind,

as it floats,

giving in to the currents,

it knows deep

in the silence of its bones.


A small boat approaches from the north,

and then I hear it:

a quick trilling tremolo of warning.


There’s another loon,

beyond the buoys,

swimming in.


I am hushed,

and humbly whisper,

“I’m sorry.”


I leave them to what they know:


inside and out,

fresh and salty.


Alone and together.


The story,






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