Easy Prey

An osprey is gliding above the bayou scanning

for mullets who congregate just below

the surface where they discuss important fish matters

like where to swim or who is taking whom

to fish-prom—with a total disregard for

the growing shadow above them

that pierces the water and plucks

(let’s call him) Sam out from the school

and into the great-osprey-beyond, and the bird is

just being a bird—his rights are

protected too—but those other fish, those

remaining mullets do nothing. They don’t

go hide under a rock or move

as group under a fallen limb,

they don’t form a search party, or even

send thoughts and prayers.

They just fill in the spot

where Sam swam and continue

their fish-chatter, as if he was never there

at all, as if the world had plenty

of mullets for osprey to hunt,

as if there were plenty of Sams to go around.

This poem first appeared in “Taking Liberties: 20th Anniversary Cutthroat, a Journal of Arts”