Gull with Telephone Wire
       

She painted a boat on the flat of the harbor,

filled it with box-houses and set it afloat.

It was their ark for painting, they said.

At first they painted together, then he went past.

A gull will take to a telephone wire,

lose itself at sea, then find a stick for a nest.

She had come to the houseboat to paint.

Soon he was Noah; she, whatever is a wife.

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Copyright © 2015 Lynne Potts All rights reserved
from Porthole View
National Poetry Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission