Drown

Your whale song calls me, guileful siren.

I follow, for you bless me with your hurricanes.

Your tiny starfish swaddle my body

and I navigate towards you through your liquid hymns.

You conjure the whitest of pearls for me to light my path.

Your sea monsters weave tunics for those who drowned in honor of our love.

I lift this coral chalice and drink as you command,

swallowing the broth you have brewed from

the impossible tears of the plankton,

the squid’s mournful ink,

the blood of dead sailors.

I arrive, and begin to dig for you,

yet I discover

as I carve canyons and abysses in my frantic search

that you have left a only a phantom in your stead on this holy island.

Its laughter incinerates my fragile skin.

And now, from a killing distance,

from an unreachable point in your impenetrable, poisonous sea,

you watch and cruelly order your tides home.

In this, your inexorable desert,

your eyes parch me,

as slow as Chinese water.

Your glance desiccates my blood,

leaving four withered chambers

pumping red sawdust.

Arid Medusa,

In your loveless drought

I dry and turn to sand.