GULL PSALM
︎︎︎ Lamb
︎ Nov 24, 2025
I saw a seagull mind some soft ceiling
above the cherry light of dinnertime.
First stars plenty hot to journey years if not
holding any warmth for me, shining in
the style of a love you wish you could return.
I’m in my beginning, Lord, I know,
the infancy of my repentance.
Would it be uncontrite to ask what keeps the seagull
down? I mean, what clips his will to fly on higher?
In the ecstasy of vertex, poised to perch upon
the parabolic teat, why make the easy
spiral glide to ground when his heart is green,
bold wings lush as imagined by thy pencil.
A handsome fisherman thou madest, Maker.
He harks with common might, a meeker confidence,
that swagger learned by animal obedience.
Then, why? What, then,
I mean, would have him pale before the cloud’s
blushed paunch, hemming heaven’s skirt?
Is it the brightness strengthening behind
the misty folds, Papa? Is it thy onscalding white?
Or the paralyzing temperature of air thinning where
the smiles of poor spirits pearl thy navy vestiture?
above the cherry light of dinnertime.
First stars plenty hot to journey years if not
holding any warmth for me, shining in
the style of a love you wish you could return.
I’m in my beginning, Lord, I know,
the infancy of my repentance.
Would it be uncontrite to ask what keeps the seagull
down? I mean, what clips his will to fly on higher?
In the ecstasy of vertex, poised to perch upon
the parabolic teat, why make the easy
spiral glide to ground when his heart is green,
bold wings lush as imagined by thy pencil.
A handsome fisherman thou madest, Maker.
He harks with common might, a meeker confidence,
that swagger learned by animal obedience.
Then, why? What, then,
I mean, would have him pale before the cloud’s
blushed paunch, hemming heaven’s skirt?
Is it the brightness strengthening behind
the misty folds, Papa? Is it thy onscalding white?
Or the paralyzing temperature of air thinning where
the smiles of poor spirits pearl thy navy vestiture?
Lamb is an American poet.