Bob Dornberg © 2003
Boats pace in their slips like nervous thoroughbreds.
Light traffic on the bay, fishermen move in and out
through the morning diesel haze.
I watch over the breakwater for the dead seal
lying in the cove for a week now.
Shifting in the tides. Being pecked at
from mouths above and below.
Her platinum fur has finally gone
to the sand flats, where her mysteries
can be studied by the tiniest of fingers.
I miss her companionship in the mornings.
Together we would listen to the music
of metal rings against their masts,
temple bells calling to each breath.
She was usually looking down into the waves,
through the schools of plankton.
Staring off into some unseeing, distant place.
When the waves brought her close,
I would stare down with her, glimpse
the next life tucked within this one,
before another series of ebbs, retreats,
pushed us both away from the rocks.
Copyright © 2003
Charles Schubert is a high school biology teacher in Salinas, as well as a student in an MFA program. He is an active member of several writing groups in Santa Cruz and Monterey.
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