Once fluffy white feathers preened daily,
water resistant and lovely to behold,
Now send my beak agape at the horror
of my toil in the oils, from the spoils of man.
Just an ordinary dive for a plump fish,
and suddenly I am a lump of living coal,
eyes blurred beyond any ability to see predators,
wings mired, I am a crippled land creature now.
Reeking of a scent to noxious to breathe,
far from the water lest it mirror my plight,
just days from dying in the baking sun,
where I will become rigid, and squat.
Another tragic twenty-first century monument
to all the cars that slow down as they drive by,
powered by the essence of what has slain me,
a black spot marring the sands of time,
a cancer quite palpable on the shores of my homeland.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis
Silver trophy winner
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