My island-body is no good for you.
Speak, thou shit-hut. Caviar our daily bread:
the mouth gapes sea-mist onion breath.
You are fabulous, phenomenal. This corpse
I pull about like dunnage on a drifting ship.
The signal is jammed. My limbs are so much shrapnel.
And dark are the waters. And deep is the night.
Rip tide vertical: the fever in my blood and spit.
I dare not touch myself for leaving marks.
Beyond the bridge is an older bridge.
Beneath the surface swim your fried egg stares returned
as in a glassy death. The tongue is squid-ink black.
For what it’s worth, the end is mathematics.
The ribcage of a killer whale is still a cage.
The city’s an inverted nipple
arousing eggy milkshake burps.
The drains connect the body to a greater mass.
I had no idea you resented my success.