SEX: The Real Life Story
September 15, 2007
Ad Pater Noster, For Our Father
September 18, 2007

Oh moving beasts
you sinkswimmers
and your fathers

upheld the tide to-
day, mossy digits
creeping from the bed
rock of the black sheets
down below, the
commissary of the sea
up to, and through
impediments, the
steel-toed steeds and we
carrying on with fish
and so

i’ll have it known
I haven’t fished a tadpole
I didn’t throw back to
sea.

never grew in oceans,
some have told me–
can’t steal one.
there’s none.

but i recoiled my arm
weighted down with rock,
half-penny-sized and sheer!
I threw it to the growl
and gutter of the green-
capped waves. but
stallions marched across
their hands,
sinkswimmers marched
across their lands,
limbless and
contrite,

fisherman knelt
and no,
no more the water left
the shore.

oh best of us,
i’ll have the
sunset for my day;
there’s nothing dared
to live again today.

and dinner’d scallop
fish, eyes a-popping,
restless in their socket
skin—i’ll skip that too,
if you’ll excuse,
I’ven’t hunger left
today.

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