Black-Backed Gull In The Fish Market, Yzerfontein Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

He searches the sea’s upheaval
that deposits tiny shards of death
on the sand. His keen senses reveal
in a closed mussel shell the slightest breath
of life, which he gathers up to God,
but then deliberately decides to shatter
on rocks far below like a dull clod
of clay (a lapse of faith? – no matter!)
diving down even faster than his dropped parcel
to feast at leisure on the squirming morsel.

Like a ship’s sails he then opens his wings
to the wind from the south-south-east,
following the noisome currents for things
rotting in the sun, a smorgasbord of fish entrails cast
off and left for assembled guests on gutting slabs.
With vigilance all the while uppermost,
he squeezes into the crowd, stands, legs squat, and stabs.
Entrails drooling, he gorges himself with gagging lust.