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A bird that dips and wavers
Over lone waters round,
Then with a cry that quavers
Is gone—a spectral sound.
— Cale Young Rice

Sopping wet, the organ floats,
flounders in one of several boats,

severed from the blue-green sea,
nevermore to scurry into the lee.

Hearty laughs, ebb and flow, on wind
oblivious to a malevolent whirlwind.

Cupid’s arrow, a bullseye contortion,
took from mate, a violent proportion.

The dawn had beat its forewarning,
hungry reds and yellows of morning.

His wild-eyed grin at heart’s wild pulse,
in his manhandle, a violent repulse.

Sin does course through shattered veins,
but in its course of port and starboard brains,

he doesn’t reflect upon the seagull’s call,
nor see the whirlpool snare mixed with gall.

The salty-scent of frangipani burns the hairs
inside his flaring nostrils. A curt whisper, dares

an invitation to Davy Jones locker, with sore siren
exhalation, the iceberg chill of Cale Young Rice.

Her bloody valentine feels the squeeze, not with
torn flesh, but a spectre’s hand with calamitous pith

inside his chamber walls ; sans lee. Sharks
circling, inhaling the scent of brute; wave arcs

all about this fanfare, with the strumpet’s reprisal.
All her shipmate’s innards fight for his survival.

In his case, Cupid’s arrows sting like a frozen sea.
The ghostly wisp enjoys the massage-latchkey,

slowly intensifying, as his loins had torn her apart.
She has a heart; she had a heart; boat’s sweetheart

of flowing ringlets, tossed to and fro, sinking
where she thought she’d found love, blinking

back an ocean of tumultuous tears, afraid, broken.
The sea accepted a plea bargain, with him as a token.

She’d live from ship to ship, shining with brilliance,
protecting, like a lighthouse - a harbor’s resilience.

Back on deck, he’s tossed overboard; Cupid decides.
Into seaweed of sharks, who prolong eating, he slides.
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