The open sea (v. 2)
working on a new poem or three for you’s (& want to watercolour a wicked creepy siren on a lyre with a hook through her chest), but in keeping w. last tumble i wanted to put up the newer/final/better/tighter/creepier/salt-swelled codpiece-y-er version of a poem i didn’t want lost to ze new readership. another ex. of my mentor Cate Marvin making me a better poetess through the magic hardship of kickasstrict revision. :) (#13 first draft)
—> The open sea
Sirens are but strumpets, coral
polyps. Penelopes
that unwind sailors’
Doric columns, claw viscera’s
violet drawstrings. They lick
briny brows, bind loose scalp
with seaweed. So much trouble
to dash abdomens, mussels open
upon volcanic rock
for a honeymoon.
Linen vests destroyed
by driftwood, repaired avec
venomous needles, taut threads
of shrieks. Seagulls’ diamond
eyes smash soft-shelled creatures
against cliff-faces.
They kiss purple urchin
lips, sea slags bury beaks
in callused palms, suck gold
garnet rings off
bloated fingers and
salt-swelled codpieces.
These tokens make sirens smile
with all the charm of a fish
-head, twisted fins still attached.
They curve like the contented
spine of a lover, or like the
lover’s smile itself
before it breaks on the shore.
