Kristen Lindquist
Salt Air
A friend of mine keeps a herd of goats on a small island off a slightly larger island way off the coast of Maine. From across the harbor you can often see the goats picking their way, one after another, along trails they’ve worn in the thin soil. Other times, they’re out of sight for days, the fog amplifying their bleats.
following seas the toll of a bell buoy grows louder
My friend was off-island for several days and returned to utter chaos: the goats had broken into her house and trashed it. The animals ate all the grain, as well as anything else they could find that was remotely edible, and despoiled every surface, including her bed. Days later when I ask how the clean-up is going, she says that even with all the windows open, everything in the house still smells like goat.
each lobster boat trailed by a cloud of gulls mouths to feed
About the Author
Kristen Lindquist is a poet, writer, and naturalist in Camden, Maine. She has published two collections of poetry and maintains a daily haiku blog at kristenlindquist.com/blog.