In the Voice of a Cormorant

Bird perched


Long ago he left me,

took another shape,

and still they blame

me for eating

hatchery raised perch

and relieving myself

on this sinking island

of three-legged frogs,

oil soaked waterfowl,

plastic lids and straws,

mats of blue-green algae, everywhere;

the strangely absent


and spotted salamanders


for once,

let’s talk erosion

of my coastline,

my sunken sailboat’s berthing,

don’t blame me for the two-legged’s


I’ve just been hanging out here

in this graveyard of cottonwoods.


Poem by John Fritzell

John Fritzell is a Wisconsin based poet who lives in Appleton with his wife and dogs. His poems have appeared in numerous journals including Tiny Seed, Bramble, Plainsongs, Red Eft Review and Gray’s Sporting Journal.