still life
By Ed Tato

a seagull screeches three times
it stands on one leg
and turns towards a sound in the lake

four brown trout eyeball a worm hanging near the surface

a dog rolls in dead fish and seaweed
she chases a rabbit into the underbrush

Vaclav shuffles the cards with tattooed hands
he keeps the deck flat on the table
and makes no bridges

Menno snaps his cello case shut
he walks outside
to find a beer and halle bop

Bogdan sits on the dock
and stares at the lights on the other side of lake
he’s trying to find two eyes looking back

a bat wings its way by

— Ed Tato is a poet living in Lawrence.