Sharks

Near the close-by ocean 
folks are terrified.
It’s brand new,
it’s unheard of:

sharks.

Once in a while
they break surface
in front of oily tourists
and apprehensive natives.

Blood in the water,
the warmer water,
the transformed water.

The fear
is not only about them
killing picturesque seals.
Not any more.

Look at them.
They’re here and that means
we’re all over;

soon the sharks
will learn
how to leap, then fly.

When it happens,
if you look carefully
at the shadow under
a jumping shark
you will see faces
you’ll recognize.

Even if that
particular animal

is not feeding
and has other places
to go, when it lands
upon something you love,
that will be death.

People on the beach
sit in fear of what’s out there
in water that used to be 
ice, their heads tumbling with
movie possibilities, scent
of blood, empty hips
and shoulders, chunks
of identity swallowed
and gone.

Sharks, they know
better. They prepare
to jump, to fly. 

Calling out to all:

water’s poison,
air is fine.

For now.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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