'Liberty Bay'

Videographer John F. Williams read my poem, "Liberty Bay," as part of his Audubon Society presentation, "From Watersheds to Whitecaps: Myriad Lives Intertwingled," Jan. 12 at the Poulsbo Library. 

Liberty Bay

A condom and other

evidence of boating

rendezvous fun

floated by as I

walked a dock on

Liberty Bay.

Couples hold hands

in the park and admire

the bay’s reflection

of the changing sky,

ignorant of soda cups from

Mickey D’s

and beer cans

and crumpled, empty cigarette

packs on the shoreline.

200 people gathered in fall

at Fish Park to celebrate

the salmon

but only four salmon

showed up for the party.

In the time of the

grandparents’ grandparents,

this place was

ho-cheeb.

There were as many as

six longhouses here.

The people honored the

salmon that returned to meet

the people’s physical, spiritual

and ceremonial needs,

and the

shores teemed with

shellfish.

Now, signs warn:

“Don’t eat the shellfish.”

“Toxic.”

The mirror-like surface

of the water reflects

the drama of roiling clouds

above,

but at this moment

I can only

mourn for Liberty Bay.