a blue-green glow
emanates from my womb
for you,
like a sea anemone
sucking in all the life
that nestles against
the soft and tender
seabed flesh,
waiting, patiently,
as in a trance;

as in a stance of love,
an ancient Sousta,
the capered clam
of every pearl
opens her hiatus
for you,
like I do
when you locomote
the soft and tender womb;

even in our tomb
I will hold you,
as in a descent
of perfect spirality
toward Lucifer’s end,
succumbing to imperfect chirality,
embalmed in the bioluminescence
of this soft and tender nauitilus.

Brinn W.