apparently there are sea monsters

under my bed
and lying awake in my cupboards,
swimming in my Cabernet Sauvignon,
immersed in the stare of my bra straps,
enfolded in the slopping of my glass,
microscopic in the droplets on the wall,
submerged around my earlobes,
whispering necessities to themselves,
or myself,
they are not me?
i think,
i will break the silence
with my screeching eyes,
and let them tell you
i am a sea monster,
and not to die.

Photo on 4-14-13 at 12.09 AM #5 copyPhoto on 4-14-13 at 12.09 AM #2 copy

25 Comments

  1. the terrifying roar and strident plea to live as one is, make this a lovely, powerful piece, well done!

  2. A Song of the Sirens… No wonder so many sailors never made it to port! A little of the red and then they were dead… ๐Ÿ˜‰

  3. And there was me thinking sea monsters preferred merlot to cab sav. This poem is like a volcano to me… feels as if it’s bubbling underneath, ready to explode.

    You’re rocking the green lips btw ๐Ÿ˜‰

Love you, too

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