Aspiration

“The maid of pearl and ambergris came from

my Sea: borne thick in the blubber of a sperm whale

for nineteen summers, she fed on expectations

and, in sleep, sipped upon the putrid waters of every man’s

murky dreams of sensory satisfaction.

Upon her twenty-first birthday, the maid left the chilly

reaches of her snow-white seabed, and stretched for

the surface- for she desired a mortal to know her

and lick the crusty salt festering on her wounds

- wished for life to be renewed after death.

As soon as her hand felt the searing touch of sunlight,

the filth of mercury and sawdust,

the uncringing boredom of daily toil and menstrual labor,

body turned to foam and mind

swallowed itself inside out like a horde

Of thoughts annihilated upon conception.”

Into my private sea

that weeds quietly festoon, and shelter is provided

for all pleasures the senses might conceive,

too soon the bowl is empty and I

must pay a dear price for killing that maiden’s nest.