For Amphibians (From "The City and the Island")

I say my good-byes
To orange peels, eggshells,
Chicken guts, celery,
Row a stroke homeward,
Then wait for gulls
To pick the stuff over.
Gulls are getting choosier
Here in the tideway,
But the sea never stops
Gulping and nibbling.

Bottles, bravest
Of all garbage
I scuttle offshore,
End up mumbled
Down among the lobsters.
Tides or a loop of line
Sometimes unwater them:
What was clear, clouded,
Messages faded,
Contents doubtful.

Landsmen like me
Are shocked when sailors
Turn to the sea
As the place to retire
Whatever’s unwanted
From soup to cadavers;
Yet they draw on its water
For all but libation
And bite without fear
Into fish that have eaten
Whatever we feed them.

The sun sinks down,
Crossed by a cormorant
Hastening homeward.
I turn to the oars
And row myself out of it.
Make my skiff fast,
Stamp feet on shore,
With my pail rinsed clean
Of provisions, garbage,
Salt water, all.

To walk the path landward
I turn my back seaward.