Tuesday poem #278 : Annick MacAskill : Great Black-Backed Gull

We think we saw it—you were in the waves,

your torso pressed to the board, letting go

as they formed, their underbellies unrolling  

from the glint of post-dusk sky to frosted glass,

bits of froth casting fish phantoms over the ocean floor.

After a brief dip, I never left the towel,

the tan pages of a library book sticking

to my fingers.

You yelled out from the water, pointing—

like any other gull, ordinary, its calls

swallowed by the distance, remarkable

only for its size. We second-guessed;

the binoculars still under the passenger seat

of your car, no nomenclature

ready for our lips. We tried later

in the bookstore, heads bent

over the species guide

unfolded like a take-out menu

in our hands—the bird at once

singular and improbable

because of how clearly it appeared to us.

Annick MacAskill is the author of No Meeting Without Body (Gaspereau Press, 2018). Her poems have appeared in publications including the Literary Review of Canada, Grain, Prism, Versal, Room, and The Fiddlehead. Other writing has been longlisted for the CBC Canada Writes Poetry Prize, longlisted for The Fiddlehead's Ralph Gustafson Poetry Prize, and nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Originally from Ontario, she currently lives and write in Halifax. 

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan