The fish circle me as jackdaws;
reciting to me, in a language lost to the world,
the bitterness of water roses–
I dodge their razor-sharp glares and go
further down into the seabed,
and wonder whether one can taste words
while being semi-conscious,
we are but mere souls having a human experience.
The catacombs release fiery songs;
as I arrive with orison at Poseidon’s black grain
a rose-red city with mermaids
who chase the moon and eat crab cakes for sport,
I observe them from a distance;
silken bodies colliding,
lips crashing and noses meeting in unison,
touch and bruise of eroticism–
I’d never witnessed a scene, so exquisite and bold.
Poseidon takes note and laughs;
catches in hand the motion of tides and churns,
oh, what glory be of ones
who rebuild themselves from fragile ruins–
I stare him in the eye and await the conclusion.
The tides of grey
bring with them glad tidings, bring pearly shores,
I am told we are both chaos and calm,
tied with undulating waves of hunter green fury–
that we float in several streams of fate,
for sake of sanity, let things be.
I stretch my legs and resurface to a road with new asphalt.
And now, as the clouds turn shade of tangerine,
I love his flesh into blossom–
breathe no more the air of night, estranged.
Yesteryear is a distant ache, is tossed
and hurled in smoke rings chasing heaven,
nothing good comes out
of filling one’s head with other people’s wars;
we swim on.
Picture courtesy: Pinterest
Posted for Open Link Night #331 @dVerse Poets Pub