Aria – a poem by Bill Garvey

Aria
 
All of a sudden
a soprano’s song wafts
from my neighbor’s
veranda over
the mournful yelps of seagulls
who swarm the cove for fish guts
pitched from lobster boats.
Tossing back their beaks
they gulp the entrails
of mackerel. A gigantic
stone coated in brine
and seaweed rises
like a woolly mammoth
with the tide’s retreat.
I imagine it’s been there
since the continents
divided or since
our eye muscles
perfected their own evolution.
I sat dead center
recording the professor
who paced the stage
like a caveman in a lab coat,
his eyes seemed
locked on me – the English major
who never took a note.
For 500 million years
the revolution of our eyes
has not changed.
With equal conviction
he confessed – It’s why
I believe in God –
which is when a theatre
of pre-med students
all glanced up
and blinked.

Bill Garvey‘s poetry has been published in Nixes Mate Review, New Verse News, Margie, The Worcester Review, 5AM, Slant, Diner, Concho River Review, New York Quarterly, Cloud Lake Literary, and Rattle in Spring, 2023.

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