by Maria Calinescu

Why are you here?
No waves lap at my door
playing among mouldy roof tiles,
bullying the air,
screeching for fish.
Teasing against newsreel of meek clouds,
don’t have to leave,
the crescent was wilder with you.
Refugee gulls, was it melting ice?
Did you crave the urban life?
Fighting for crusts, startling commuters.
Riding the gusts, swarming, falling,
thin smell of summer, delayed ferries.
All I hear is warlike drones,
a skip that never moves,
a sense of forbidding, loss,
the sharp taste of sea.