Thursday, July 2, 2009

Ocean Rot

Pulling my clothes off
to head to the ocean
I'm tantalized by
these waters like
any woman
swim or drown
or dive for men
I'm not accustomed 
to heavy salt stains
on my skin when
all I asked for  was
to be carried
without complaint

I could cut you
with these starfish
I could sterilize
these scales
in oceans of formaldehyde
where skin won't
rot off bone where
I don't need to 
blink when I see 
you coming
Your fingerprints
are fused to me 
like shards of glass
or sand

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