Two boats outside my window
with gillnets. Not that I know
what that means (the nets)
until you say they’re illegal.
I watch the rise of the sea alive
with promise, grow concerned
for the dolphins that surf the waves
as I sip my morning coffee/black.
That’s a lie. I like cream/thick as foam
washing in like a bad tourist along
the Tijuana River. No one can swim
in the ocean there. Or maybe they do.
Who knows what sickness comes
in the dark of our own homes.
Yet we eat the fish, fish swimming
through brown waste.
Did you know that dolphins can hold
a grudge? Like you when I turn down
the oysters you order for dinner.
There is not enough Tequila in the world
to rinse decay off the tongue.
They found one dead, on the sands
of Playa Encantada. Bottlenose
crushed, a beautiful & terrible thing.
Something I hate.
Sheree La Puma has poems most recently in Chiron Review and Plainsongs. She is the author the chapbooks Politics of Love (Ghost City Press) and Broken: Do Not Use (Main Street Rag). website