Anchored off Biscayne Bay
my father’s wooden skiff swings easy
on the current as ebbing spring tide
stirs the flats of Crandon anchorage.
Cook smoke comes quiet across open water
from the liveaboards, snug tonight behind
humped silhouettes of mangrove islands
where brown pelicans glide in low wedges of last light.
from the liveaboards, snug tonight behind
humped silhouettes of mangrove islands
where brown pelicans glide in low wedges of last light.
We are here for shark.
