“Seagull,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Like an awkward emperor,
you sit alone atop
the rooftop of my urbane neighbors.

Squat and fat and white, you’re
a satisfied and unenlightened despot.
Edicts issue out
From your discordant “caw!”

What do those yuppies think of you?
Your mien makes
Their rich art-deco house
A commonplace kingdom.
Your ungainly gait makes
a prosaic palace of their home.

Cardinals arcing over
are airborne scarlet darts.

Pairs of swallows will sometimes
loop in symmetry.

You’ll have none of it. You’re
All utilitarian flight
And graceless landings.

If you were human
you’d be a pot-bellied plumber, perhaps
in a wife-beater t-shirt
holding a beer.

Other birds will swoop and dive.
Other birds will sing.
But your cawing only exhorts us,
“Hail to The King.”

© Eric Robert Nolan 2013



Photo credit: CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=437394

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