Harried by the orange digits
on the dashboard,
I leaned in around
the steering wheel,
up too close
to cars in front, ripped
past gnarled clearcut
patches. My
ferry reservation
crumpled in my hand
five miles before
I waived it at
the ticket clerk–
‘I’ve got to get to a funeral!’
The ferry rolled forward
in the sun, chased
looping seagulls
across the straight.
By the window,
I stared into the water
until bald stumps
surfaced
in the green-grey foam.
Then the PA brought my head up–
‘Passengers, today is the Sea Carnival–
look starboard,
the clown craft race is underway!’
And there, a yellow submarine,
an orca whale, an ambulance
nudged through the waves,
while on the shore
the whole town
filled the piers to watch.
The mourners fought
for footing in
deep sand. Someone
offered
an inoffensive little prayer
but was cut short
by a shrieking chaos out
on the Straight.
Gulls fell frantic,
ravenous
on the herring bloom.
And as we trudged off,
some birds heaved
their heavy stomachs and
floated drunkenly away,
while the cloud of ashes
billowed wider
just under
the waves.
Jonathan’s poems and essays have appeared in various publications including The New Plains Review, Cirque Journal, The Statesman Journal, Houseboat Literary Magazine, and Poetry Pacific. He lives with his family in Vancouver, Canada.
