selkie

February 11, 2007

With day submerged she drowns in gin
to wash away a sea sore man;
she sounds beneath the wake of past,
but brine can’t quench a whalebone thirst.
She flees his mast

to float back home in song on dunes;
a lantern fish arcs through the gloom
and sheens skin silver, licks red strands:
anemone in flowing wind
on hourglass sands.

There’s something moving on the sea,
by wave; numb eyed, salt whiff of bream
impaled on whiskers testing air;
he shrugs by shore his selkie fur
and sleeks his hair.

His gaze is urchin, squid ink wet.
He finds his nets, relearning breath.
In star shoaled pool he seeks a lure,
and finds he is as fair as hooks –
his aims impure.

Her scent tugs his immortal line.
He fishes with a curved rod, smiles,
and trawls her tune, a frothy dirge –
her shining scales reflect the moon.
his hungers merge.

She scrys his surface: mammal grace.
The current draws her eyes to trace
his shape, sea walls brace tidal blood;
he whispers to her, strokes her depth,
a gentle flood.

She drifts with him, though once they taught her
in her school that underwater
love’s white ray can sink in trenches,
angelfish may fall in traps
then gut on benches.

He drips in her body like a liquid clock,
her heart a dolphin’s warning click;
chimera dives beneath the air;
in whirlpool climax live catch squirms.
Electric hair

will eel around his palace dome,
where hundreds more well picked wishbones
remind him now of sealed desires
as warm as meat, but these thoughts dim
like sinking fires.


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