You howl my blood like antelope thunderstorms.
The sagging years have made you dearer than nicotine.
You thrill my arteries, coax each meal the bulbs of taste.
Your purr and tickle flares the beastly roars of me.
No care for executing chefs, no tips for waiters who try
to shame me: I beg and plead and table-thump for you.
How you saturate the seas of me. How you helped
ancestors face the belligerent Atlantic. How you wrestled
fierce Newfoundland winters, coating the cod that
chewed the gums of every toothless bride and fisherman.
An anxious solace: when the carrion descend the clutch of salt
and water I call self will dissolve, take flight, soar.
David Huebert is the author of the poetry collection We are no longer the smart kids in class (Guernica, 2015). His chapbook, Full Mondegreens, co-authored with Andy Verboom, recently won the 2016 Frog Hollow Press Chapbook Contest. His story, “Enigma,” won the 2016 CBC Short Story Prize.