Mike White
is originally from Montreal. He now enjoys living in Utah, where political satire is performed daily and without irony. In his largely theoretical free time, he edits Quarterly West, the nation’s premier and only biannual quarterly. His poems have squeaked their way into magazines including The New Republic, Poetry, Verse, The Iowa Review, The Antioch Review, The Threepenny Review, River Styx, and AGNI.
When the ship started
taking on water
the admiral looked worried.
We knew the admiral
as anecdotally bad
as a cheater at cards
as a pirate in poor disguise
but as one of us for chrissake
until he said Gangway !
and cannonballed
into the boundless ocean
wearing the ship’s one
remaining inflatable option.
arggh he said
as he bobbed
up and down
When the sharks started
circling we hauled him back in
and tied him to the foremast. Sic 'em, he said to parrot. Sic 'em, said parrot,
gnawing the admiral’s earring.
