Year of the squid.
We must make amends
For our previous misdeeds,
When we knew no better
And didn’t give a whit,
Whether we were armed or not—
Mollusks, every last one of us.
But now we’ve adapted.
Discovered land, as it were.
Chosen surroundings so serene,
We have little reason to swim,
Flapping fins no more.
Still, we should be cautious.
Keep large eyes out for fate.
Make certain we’re not supper
On a plate of regret.
Bart Edelman’s poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack (Prometheus Press), Under Damaris’ Dress (Lightning Publications), The Alphabet of Love (Red Hen Press), The Gentle Man (Red Hen Press), The Last Mojito (Red Hen Press), The Geographer’s Wife (Red Hen Press), Whistling to Trick the Wind (Meadowlark Press), and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023 (Meadowlark Press). He has taught at Glendale College, where he edited Eclipse, a literary journal, and, most recently, in the MFA program at Antioch University, Los Angeles. His work has been widely anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Etruscan Press, Fountainhead Press, Harcourt Brace, Longman, McGraw-Hill, Prentice Hall, Simon & Schuster, Thomson/Heinle, the University of Iowa Press, Wadsworth, and others. He lives in Pasadena, California.