Peter Chapman Poetry

Seagull Life-Saving

Sitting by the bay the other day,
it was cold, there was no sun
or spirit by which I could warm my heart

til a wild bird not knowing anything
flew down from the same-colored sky,
landing in front of me, in my old car

then tried walking left and right
going up on a leg like Diagahlev,
tipping as the theatre gasped

and my head turned into a matinee
since I'm not much into ballet.