Quails

Meg Kearney

Pliny told that migrating quails rested in such numbers on the

sails of ships at night that the vessels were in danger of sinking.

-- from 100 Birds and How They Got Their Names

All night our ship creaks

and groans under the weight

of countless scale-bellied

quails. Bad luck to shoot

them -- so fifty-two men

dream of drowning while

white-feathered crests sag

our rigging worse than any

wave. Still, death by bird

is not how we plan to go.

We pass some rot-gut wine

in the dark while the deck

turns slick with shit. Touching

crosses round their necks,

those who believe side with

drunks who think they see a pink

horizon, but dawn comes

only when it's ready. Then

the sailor who sees farthest

bows before the bevy（一群） of quails（鹌鹑）

rising reluctant but steady

toward their memories of stars.