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I lost my balance in your slipstream.
Which made me a black dolphin.
Water-fallen.
Hydrogen’s, Oxygen’s moleculed fool.
Mocked by the squalling,
squawk of rocks.
Disregarded like me at the bottom.
Surrounded with wet ridicule.
As, afterwards in scorn I’m walled-in.

Navy blue hues, shank at,
gloomed bile.
Melancholia.
Impales my stomach.
A black, gutted sea dog.
Skewered on a goring spear,
from out of my depths.
By the bluest blue marlin.

No soppy words, nor,
sentimental sentence,
could atone for my life spent, silently; whistling-clicks, bawling.
Searching for you,
in a roaring sea’s unanswers.
At the damp hands,
of your unrepentence. Your unfathering.

In which, unbeknownst to you, you carry, Irresponsibility’s goring spear, violently.
And, that is when you;
transfixed your own son.

And, became, a harpooner’s gun, called;

‘The Bluest Blue Marlin’.

© poormansdreams

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