May 29, 2009

Pearl Grotto (v. 2)

our mouths are oysters,
pearls growing inside
as quickly as they can drop from our tongues

catching on our clavicles,
sliding off our shoulders,
nestling in our navels,
sticking in the damp creases
of our elbows and knees,
encrusting our sexes
richly as jewels
on a crown,

and we are swift silver fishcreatures
streaking bubble-baubled fingerfins
through scale-scattered light,

lungs louvering,
lips dilating,

flicking, slippery and oblivious,
through a glistening grotto,

swishing, slick and silken,
against each other's opening shells.


A reworking of an earlier draft.

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