Waking the Otter

Wake. I seek to wake,

I seek the day that dreams

Would rise up for

And salute. Salute

As though the dream had ended

But you know, as well

As I, it will never end.

For I hear the cries

Of water pigeons

And ducks ashore,

Their eyes cast out

Like fishermen’s nets

In seeking want

Of satisfaction, of sustenance

In the belly

Of hunger. I hunger

For the taste of their food,

The splash of sleek, wet

Wing and lake together,

Sharp against my soft cheek.

Soft, because I am house-bound

As an otter in his pond,

Warm, wet, shivery, sated,