The big fish ate the little fish

Posted by Erik Moshe on Thursday, November 19, 2015 Under: Poetry
Coast to coast across a varicose ocean
Knickerbockers hang off the edge of a steamboat
flirting with the plutocrat green water, soaked.
The man wearing them is a fork tongued badger
reddish in eye, sturdy in stature
A cigar lit; no put-out for his quartermasterly pride
educated in the halls of the Necronomicon
schooled in the choruses of the sirens in the Odyssey
he could drum his fingers in the Atlantic spore
sensing death at his fingertip's jolly probes
overtaking whalesong, fish carcass and marine life
A rare ability to understand subtle contingencies
in predator-prey webs that empower storm clouds
to hone in their strength on resting pelicans
on makeshift islands in the Bermudan metal flats
Huts, houses, cottages line a truffled sea
as if humans could inhabit coral reefs, advance them
to the surface in sudden progression of epoch
The seven seas of biology deserve a gold crest
tonal craniums shaved of their barbs, fitted
with dreadnaught domes, guided out into the night's tide
Nobleman's tactics for the swordfish plunge
into deep areas where Excalibur had no choice
but to be buried in forethought - sand - antibodies

In : Poetry 



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