Sunday, June 1, 2008


Feeding the Geese

After three years they welcome
us with hiss and honk,
their necks curving like question marks,
and we wonder if they know

we are the ones
who have created their hunger
with our plastic sacks
and outstretched arms,

our voices gentle and admiring
as we exclaim over the journey
the geese make each year from Canada
to share a quarter-acre pond
with a fleet of Japanese koi
that forever swarm the surface,

their scaled bodies thick
and lethargic in the murky water
while the one an artist tattooed on your ankle
swims in ink the color of Florida,
its disposition sweeter
and no less persevering

please, I say
promise me

we’ll still visit this pond
even when the Gatsby-glow darkens
and your tattoo fades to grey,
our American dream not new
not even American
not painted on
but pressed in with needles
inside a smoky room,
neon light in the window flashing open

and the geese –
we’ll watch them waddle away
when the bag is empty,
koi left to swim
the same hopeful circle.

- Irene Latham

We have lots of goslings at the local lakes right now. Can't get too close to them though... those Mama Geese sure are fiesty!

"I used to be Snow White. But I drifted."

- Mae West

1 comment:

  1. Great poem, Irene! The photo of the goose is just awesome. I hope you had a wonderful weekend! Happy Monday!



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