Five Poems

In the Night Dulse
of White Breakers
a Falstaff Drops His Pike

                                    —September 22, 2011

The moon shifts thrice in fast clouds.
He severs the Spaniard’s fat arm
while the sea lifts
both men’s skirts
and large birds repeat a melancholy relief.

In short they’re both fucked. In good
and sudden company. A dagger leaving
the other’s neck, a red
froth of oxygen at the mouth
like sea bass fertilizing rocks.
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