I was washing the dinner dishes when I heard a massive thump. Alarmed, I went to the sliding glass door and looked out. I was expecting to see a seagull lying there dead or injured after crashing into the glass. Instead, a juvenile sand shark was flailing on the back deck. I couldn’t have been more astonished if I’d been visited by an angel clothed in light. The shark was a foot or so long, with a battleship gray upper side and an off-white underbelly. As it thrashed about, I called to my wife, “Barbara, quick, bring a bucket!” and she must have heard something in my voice because that’s what she did. I half-filled the bucket from the hose. Then Barbara, using a gardening trowel, managed to drop the shark into the bucket. This life is a dark and terrible thing and a mystery worth preserving.

— Howie Good is a poet and collage artist on Cape Cod. His latest poetry books are Famous Long Ago (Laughing Ronin Press) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).