pure white black legs large grey black whiskers salmon-red lipstick eyes large head thick neck stained pale rust from the iron rich canal a long thin tail resonating a deep trumpet - a trash truck on the water
our seasonal flock of three
or four
million
reaching roofs and basements so far below the surface clawed feet digging dumpster bottoms / black roots pale shoots - green lettuce spaghetti and duck and potato�
pink babies feeding on cockroaches beetles small bits turned to milk
we don't mate for life... by two or three months we court in the winter - swimming synchronicity, screetching, blowing in the walls.. her and my duet
we nest twice before the ice melts - near the bags and cans, dense privacy� plenty of room to take-off�
every year a twenty new nests near a muskrat house a land beaver lodge near a moat of sewer - eight feet across three feet below the man hole
a month she'll sit - i swim nearby, i guard
fluffy pale gray covers our dinner in a day or two they'll flow from her behind
i bring her shoots bits of garbage let it float to the surface - i still eat half of them
five months until i get them too - another week until we all have to go. Providence
a sewer lined with rock
we keep an eye on all the people on the shore�
