The Squid

“The last thing I remember–
was being enveloped
by the miry, russet arms
of a giant squid…”

I squandered all my trinkets
of hope except the
prism that still made colours
through the sun leak prison bars.
It could shine right through the glass jar,
but the same Sun could not bear to look through me.

To the back of shipwreck caves
I flew like a rodent small and shameful,
a shrewd finger doubled back
and nailed me to commit.
Affinity for trouble prevailing
and it shoved me down into a pit.

I thought this beauty had been something that would
take time to achieve, but I grieve.
For now I know what it means
and what trouble I have unintentionally caused,
with wayward demon claws.

Breaking laws of attraction, I bent all concept
with the unflawed face I could not resist,
the face that had me buried,
the face I could not kiss.

I inlaid the small smooth surface
of the skin with pearls purchased,
in pinpoint precision,
I paid with silver coins,
for I could not fathom this—

this ocean of components
conjoined by an outlook grim
that I’m too young,
and too ahead of myself,
to comprehend or swim.

Also too much of knave to
transcend or melt
and mend the buoyant heart
I was given in utmost grace.

Now heavy, its load grows cold
with self loathing
and a pride
I do not humbly disguise.

I stand out on the jagged cliff
to slant dreams saccharine
away from light
of reminiscence,
and precisely
angle myself as not to miss it.

Then it’s slit, sink, subside
during the first fruits of Lammas tide
down to drown
in murky water,
conquered
by the bittersweet
slaughter and subsequent mess,

I reach up for the
small distorted face
made of wave and ripples
and the hem
of a pale pink dress
but what I get is a bit
more hardcore:
tentacles like tourniquets–

And all this devil wants is gore.