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Sea Gull
by Dzvinia Orlowsky
Whether the mackerel was holy
is forgotten the way all bad jokes
are forgotten, hung in the back
of closets like old coats,
silk linings snagged.
The horizon separating blue from blue
kept the sea gull hooked on our line,
a kite, alive, pulling upward
toward the sky's blinding clarity.
My husband and I motored
our small red boat around
the inlet named Spit —
a red slash of bait
in our pail.
The more I pulled the more
it pulled back, hook in its beak,
riding the sky, its white wings
blocking the sun,
Holy Ghost bending strips
of light like wheat in the wind.
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Bio: Dzvinia Orlowsky is a founding editor of Four Way Books and the author of three poetry
collections including "Except for One Obscene Brushstroke" (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2004).
Her poetry and translations have appeared in numerous anthologies including "A Map of Hope: An
International Literary Anthology; From Three Worlds: New Writing from the Ukraine"; and "A Hundred
Years of Youth: A Bilingual Anthology" of 20th Century Ukrainian Poetry. She currently teaches at
the Solstice Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program at Pine Manor College.
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