eye of night
My dream shark use to visit me. It was always during a nightmare, usually involving me drowning in some rather painful way. Now she is gone. Odd.
I.
At night wrecked against
poor skies I bestow my body's
drugged sludge all my
matter blown loose,
as the smell of drowning
impregnates the banisters,
the hallway, these moorings,
as fishing-nets tangle and
all the salt that fills my
tongue crusts the world.II.
Without doubt, this is hard work.
Each night the threads are picked
off my blue water-logged wrists,
the fishing ropes removed. Let
these scabs slide off my body
like little eyelets. You call her
ugly, you call her bitter,
the nightmare continuing
all day and I keep calling,
I have called and the deep
one, she of the large silence,
her bite like cassava, a hint
of the sea's branches and
maritime's bird, returns to
my fall. I am always
falling, the eyes of the night.