Faith Hope & Fiction

2 Poems by John Grey

STARFISH

A starfish sits motionless
on the bottom of a tidepool.
A darting bug
ripples the water
like the tip of a finger
but there’s not a hint of movement
from those outstretched orange arms.
This breathing organism
merely ingests the soft shimmer
of sunlight,
pulses modest rhythms
amid algae-festooned stones.

SEA LIONS

Sometimes they flop up on a rock,
wheeling and dealing for just enough space,
slapping and squirming their way into the comfort
of a warm California sun.
The boats don’t bother them,
nor do the play-acting dolphins.
Their disagreements are only with each other,
a scornful bark, whisker-bristling anger,
at a dark gray body sliding an inch too close.
But suddenly instinct’s whistle blows
and they effortlessly scatter,
swivel smoothly into the thick
of a school of passing anchovy,
a serious feeding frolic devouring the surface fish cloud.

Occasional orcas, white sharks,
temper their contract with these waters.
Rump scars tell of bloody close encounters.
Or the sea churns foul
and their former resting places
are now rough-edged weapons against them.

In the height of summer, they retreat
to their secluded beach rookeries
females birthing, males lashing out punishment
in a game of territorial Twister.
They’re ever heedful of the sea,
the sun, the dark, life and death,
the susceptibility of the one,
the endurance of the colony.

John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S. resident. He has been published in New Plains Review, Perceptions, Sanskrit, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle, Owen Wister Review and Louisiana
Literature, among others.