Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Eighteen
Winter 2008
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On My Walk
Madonna J. Arsenault

empty bait shop
fish shed
few seagulls
silent boats and car engines
old railroad ties on the wharf
smell of creosole and tar

baby seal sleeping alone
on the rock beside Butchie's boat
burdocks and orange iris' thrive
where Terry used to sleep with the seawall cats.

dried nets
bouys under the torn black tarp
one loose plank
boats like tombstones
young boys playing on the rocks
swearing like an old fisherman with a hook in his hand.

About Madonna J. Arsenault

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