Woke within a dream,
amidst dense forest.

a tree stood,
older than time,
casting its shadow.

a touch of it,
showed all it had lived—
bloodied sword clash,
clouds that wept for years,
flora it wore,
wildflowers it shielded,
the warmth it once kissed.

yet it stood still.
as I faded,
back into the dream.

If I had an hour left to live,
I'd spend it here,
Throw some kind of party,
Invite everyone I knew,

Because I would die a legend,

But I know I wouldn't attend,
I'd sneak away with you,
Spend my final moment kissing you.

Imagine seeing your vices
All Piled up
Or In a crate
or a vat
The eternal filing cabinet
Lists that
The Stirling equivalent
Of what you paid out
Could have bought you a boat
And not a cheap one at that.

He sleeps, while I writhe.
My legs sea serpents dancing
to an ancestral song,
silken skin, smooth, reptilian —
I’ve ached too long.

He dreams of clocks and duties,
while mystery gyrates —
Calypso’s desire in me.
But his passion’s pulse,
more near to death than sleep,
lies drowned, flattened;
a ghostly galleon on the seabed.

There must be more than this —
my belly, blood, breath agree —
for pulling, twisting, gasping,
I must myself please.

At long last, spit out, washed up
of rolling waves, upon longing’s shore —
a salty, glistening, uncoiled creature,
in the light of the new day’s sun.