Sa’me Shoujyo the Shark Girl: sonnet cycle
Here is the second sonnet is the series. I am not sure where this will all lead to but I am willing to go along with the ride. We shall see. My friend Kaho wrote about the name Same Shoujyo that it contained sweet sugar and deadly poison. True. Now all I need to do is find a smashing photo of the ghost girl and we shall be set to go.
I.
Press your mouth up to mine. These words displease
but its all we got. I am salt, blue mists
covering dune grass. Dunes are the junkie's
eyelashes. You are drunk. Our kiss consists
of your tongue in my mouth. Fat tongue that twists
in the wet air. Your mouth is a squandered
coast, a lone girl walking toward us. This tryst
is odd, you would never allow a third
to join us, another voice that yammered
your name. Yammering. Once I kissed the ghost
of a drowned girl. You are not her. No word
or kiss can bring her back. You, a bone coast
and I? Something simple you will forget,
like tar fog's chill or a love dog's regret.
II.
It is not this kiss that binds them here. Not
their lost bodies, you see, that is crucial
to keep them; to say, "if I had known what
it's like …" No kiss can fill them with lustful
warmth. I ran my tongue along each dreadful
gill. Kissed where the skin webbed the hand into
fin. Her breath gave off a girl-curd, carnal
stench. I licked right where the shark teeth bit through
her side. Where "ta'awah," the old Hebrew
word for lust, was cut before they threw her
overboard. It's not this kiss they want, you
see, but the breath that came with the rapture
when you said, "if I'd known what it's like, dear,
I'd have let you take me right now, right here."