With a baffling urgency, red-wing blackbirds called
from drainage ditches beside the foundry.
Somewhere between mosquitoes and vultures
a bullfrog answered atop a half-buried tire.
Sometimes, mud is laced with a poisoned despair
yet somehow there I wooed her and we flew
from the remaining crayfish. For me, survival
has demanded laboring in more than two worlds.
In the tidal night, I’ve plucked Dungeness crab
from the scavenging seafloor, cracked the shell open
and devoured the sweet flesh found
just one step from the broken starfish.
poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
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