Long Island

PJ DeGenaro


Where I was spawned like a fluke
in the waves off the flat south shore,
and tossed alive on the Freeport docks
by a drunken man from Captain Lou’s fleet.
Where I swam in the blood-warm water
of South Oyster Bay, finning through
estuaries between grassy islands,
never losing sight of siding-covered Levitts
with extra rooms tacked on, above and behind,
or the gasoline bloom below
the Atlantic Beach Bridge, while trucks rumbled
over me, spiked on the beak of a plover.