Just Saying
The moon, with a gush of crystal tears
splayed like a glittering catwalk
that anticipates a parade of gods
spanning an expanse of black ocean,
says to a forlorn barque becalmed
in that vast circumference of nothing,
I am the victim here. Blood red,
wine dark: call seawater any color
that suits the sing-song hexameters
of your one-string twanging. Since
a ball of rock and dust cannot speak,
a morbid pallor says its mute message
each time you stare up to try
to put a familiar face to it. Of all I do,
says the ocean, the most relaxing
is to whoosh white spume over black rocks
every ten seconds. Then sigh back,
like sucking teeth. The blue ocean
and the moon that tries to caress
away its blackness are not talkers
but doers. Just messing with you,
they say, while you blister for days
under sails drooped like shrouds,
crying out comical croaks to your gods
through purple swollen tongues.
splayed like a glittering catwalk
that anticipates a parade of gods
spanning an expanse of black ocean,
says to a forlorn barque becalmed
in that vast circumference of nothing,
I am the victim here. Blood red,
wine dark: call seawater any color
that suits the sing-song hexameters
of your one-string twanging. Since
a ball of rock and dust cannot speak,
a morbid pallor says its mute message
each time you stare up to try
to put a familiar face to it. Of all I do,
says the ocean, the most relaxing
is to whoosh white spume over black rocks
every ten seconds. Then sigh back,
like sucking teeth. The blue ocean
and the moon that tries to caress
away its blackness are not talkers
but doers. Just messing with you,
they say, while you blister for days
under sails drooped like shrouds,
crying out comical croaks to your gods
through purple swollen tongues.
