Liz Hall artist writer performer

more words



Dear Albatross,

I think I love you.

I desire your strong profile

your southern, hemispherical ways,

your counter clockwise intuition,

your wind-borne days.

If I send my Cupid’s arrow

through your steady beating heart

will you drape your wings around my neck,

become my talisman, and I your Mollymawk.

We shall run at the wind

to the edge of the land,

I’ll dig my fingers deep into the down

on your long long wings

and sit astride you,

you’ll become my own

and we’ll fly over the sea and play

on the windward slopes of the rising wave,

We’ll rest together on some isolated shore,

and learn each other’s lives.

I’ll splay my feet

to match yours so neatly

that you’ll dance with only me,

and we’ll refine our choreography

to form a lifetime’s line

of fifty sea-filled summers.

I’ll lay my naked flesh

against our rudimentary nest

of twigs and heather,

ignore the other Goonies that

complain I don’t sport feathers,

and I will conjure you an egg

that we will fledge

on squid and krill.

So if you say you love me

I’ll give up my single life;

eat fish,

bill clack,

sky point,

become your wife.