trout

Skuas

Robert James Berry

They fly when there is some moon
out from the black gully
back from the ice

and swoop a circuit
for their killing maelstrom.

To scavenge a sea lion placenta
or carrion penguin

to loiter round the dogholes and dumps
is all them;

ineptitude makes them messy killers.

I watched one kill a penguin
with a jab of its bill;

a trickle of blood
rilled down the beak.

Harsh as their nests
bleak as the returning snow
impulse to cannibalism and infanticide

I admire their complete evolution to beast,
their squally tempers.

Be noisy, wave sticks, throw stones
they shan't back down.
Ever.