and i’m watching the blood
in the sunset—smothered red
(like the cuts in my toes from
rough pool corners or pink twisted
shells on the fat spiky shore), sun
descending from a splattered ink
sprawl, the fiery orb going slow and
then fast in the impenetrable drop—
a waning disco, a clambering countdown
(like new year’s day, like every day
was a new year, gone again as the
tide washes the colors away).
so it sets but all i see are the spaces
between the stars, smelling gory ocean
air hot as hellfire, feeling chapped lips
like burnt parchment as a tongue passes over,
tans like strips of cardboard that cost
raw salmon rashes. “the sky is blue”
but the ocean is bluer, a hasty murderer that
sent salt spewing down my pinkened throat
and into the world inside, little mollusks
that burrowed into my wrenching stomach,
burning like the orb. but the sun is set.
so it is.