Whore o’ the Sea
I’m just trying on
the shape of it. Or
what’s that word
I’m doing, taking
tooth for lips, re-
describing purple,
whirring sticker-
shock into narrative?
Nothing in a week
and a half of sour
until “Morning?” (he
writes). “Seems to me
you’re a guy likes to
breathe” (hot / stone).
“I’d do more if I were
you” (each / stab). His
next exit makes outer
space a piece of cake.
