What is "Penguin on the Beach" by Ruth Miller
about?
Penguin on the
Beach
Ruth
Miller
Stranger in his own
element,
Sea-casualty, the castaway
manikin
Waddles in his tailored coat-tails.
Oil
Has spread a deep commercial
stain
Over his downy shirt front. Sleazy,
grey,
It clogs the sleekness. Far too
well
He must recall the past, to be so
cautious:
Watch him step into the waves. He
shudders
Under the froth; slides, slips, on the wet
sand,
Escaping the dryness, dearth, in a white
cascade,
An involuntary shouldering off of
gleam.
Hands push him back into the sea. He
stands
In pained andsilent
expostulation.
Once he knew a sunlit, leaping
smoothness,
But close within his head’s small knoll, and
dark
He retains the image: Oil on
sea,
Green slicks, black lassoos of
sludge
Sleeving the breakers in a strain-spread
scarf.
He shudders now from the clean flinching
wave,
Turns and plods back up the yellow
sand,
Ineffably wary, triumphantly
sad.
He is immensely wise: he trusts nobody. His
senses
Are clogged with experience. He
eats
Fish from his Saviour’s hands, and it tastes
black.
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