Watch Hill, Fire Island National Seashore
Sober, I see this island
for what it is. I have always
been able to be still
here. Tonight at dusk
the mosquitos were thin
so we ventured out to the marsh
on the bay side
and watched fish jump
in the small clearings
of marsh grass. Animals come
and go; populations swell
and plummet; dominance
is always passing along. This
is a healthy, moving
ecosystem.
After my father died,
the ecology of my brain
became flooded with adrenaline,
and I am still trying
to rebalance the chemicals.
An animal bone
rests on the side of
the boardwalk—left
by a fox. I haven’t seen one
yet, but they are deep
in the dune foliage. Predators
are vital to the health
of this community. The bone
is curved—a lone, open parenthesis.
Emily Hockaday is a Queens-based poet and editor. Her newest chapbook, Beach Vocabulary, is forthcoming from Red Bird Chaps. She is author of Space on Earth (Grey Book Press), Ophelia: A Botanist's Guide (Zoo Cake Press), What We Love & Will Not Give Up (Dancing Girl Press), and Starting a Life (Finishing Line Press). She can be found on the web at www.emilyhockaday.com and @E_Hockaday.
