Estevan Poem by Harry Silvera

You want to know
why l loathe you.

Since then
the flaw in this eye
has been like
a blob of oil

rolling on the skin
of the ocean life
is dead (tonight at 8)
impossible to clean (a man
falls out
of a burning

window) the slimy pelican
rises
for the last time
into the sky and
the view

from space is
black waters, red
wilderness. Our
weapons

are antiquated
but I'll die
before the fight
is over.

Ready
to fire?
Did you bring
your bow
and arrow?