"For we are overtaken."
-Hart Crane
He sunk like a stone or a homosexual,
though he was neither. Down, down, down.
Past the reach of sunlight, the erotic conches,
the saluting waves. Past the wide-eyed schools
of fish, the lone octupus, the ready shark. Past
the grotto where two mermaids stroked their
long hair guiltily, shaking with pleasure. He
bounced off the ocean floor three times and
slipped into a trench. The darkness was
organic, melancholy. The heat melted his
fingers together. He was a fishman, a
biological slip-up. Less than human.
He started to form gills and fought his
way back to the surface to tell everyone.
This is how it came to be that I had
Hart Crane for dinner last night with a
lemon slice and a side of chips.
Author notes
Written November 9th, 2006
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Comments
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The words of Jesus came to my mind and somehow they were speaking to me through this poem.
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Mr Rearick - how are you? I wanted to say hi, so....hi.
This, as you surely know, is beautifully constructed. And I haven't commented on anything of yours in an aaaaaaage. Which is certainly my loss and not yours.
One thing: I'd maybe put a semi-colon after "a lemon slice..." - would unjolt those last two lines.
I miss you.
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There is something amazingly bizarre about this...I don't think any articulation I have would sound like the compliment it would be intended to be. the only words that are circulating in my head on this are 'A strange error' and 'Beside the point'...both of which seem insulting but are actually quite refreshing...it's a healthier face on the very abused genre of free verse..Well done!
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