I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heaven to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
pissing on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
once i make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!
The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
I must not dismount.
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning and captivation.
I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
for I was a crocodile once.