THIS IS A YEAR OF THE PIG CONTEST ENTRY
Poem of a seabird endemic to the Hawaiian Islands.
the dark speck flapping in the eye
of the sun,
the passing cloud over the ocean's face,
white underbelly concealing talons,
wingtips shearing ocean tides.
You navigate the currents,
a partner to an ancient choreography
of a spinning globe, wind, sun
and moon. Where you dived for squid,
fishermen found yellowfin tuna.
Once a year you return to land
where your clumsy feet cannot walk,
to nesting burrows that hold your
On a cool, cloud-filled night,
your fledgling will favor
the false flight path of white halogen
lining a football stadium
over the distant celestial guides
to the sea.