What My Albatross Steals

Storms are a delight for my albatross.
This diver sails giddy on gusts, soaring over volcanoes
Threatening to erupt, unspooling lava fields
That shimmer, black, like polished glass.

From below the bird looks regal, a specimen
Of unbounded nature at its most engineered.
But up close, when it swoops in for the kill
We spy the battered wings, the stained beak,
The webbed-feet wrinkled a faded orange.

Not a new bird at all, but one shadowing us
From our Eden, a twin paired to follow
Our same steps through each of life’s seasons.

Words have been my tool in pilgrimage.
I loved how my mouth could shape syllables
That resonate in pentameter, beats and stresses
That relay an equilibrium in every sentence.

But my mouth is a target for the sea eagle.
My tongue gone, just an appetizer for lunch,
That whets the animal to dig deeper, tugging
In my chest at my soul, invisible to most,
Yet a tasty treat for my albatross to swallow
As it rockets above to dark skies where rains
Flood my city, my home, leaving me exposed.

Floating on turbulent waves, neighbors become
Brothers, sisters, helping each to breathe.
Together we forget what the bird seized.
We speak again, still traumatized, yet not numb.