Sea Night

Last night.
Last night,
on a shivering rock near the sea
a seagull sang
to her baby a candy-coated song.
As her sugary voice echoed the sky
the baby’s ears fed on it
like two starving feathery ants.
Slowly the waves started singing with her,
singing an enchanting lullaby,
which made the sun sleep longer
under the thick black blanket of the night,
but she slept violently,
kicking and tugging the blanket
with her flames,
tearing it,
and from the millions of tears in the blanket
rained down sunlight.
We call these glowing tears stars,
how ignorant have we become?

Listen.
Listen to the sea,
it made love last night.
Last night the sea kissed the pier
with an army of salty liquid lips,
they attacked the pier’s wooden body with lust
not leaving any part of her beautiful brown skin
unconquered with desire
and when she started laughing
the splinter-bruised blue lips knew they were victorious.
Last night.
Last night,
I was the sea
and you were that pier. . . .

Don’t you remember?
Don’t you remember?

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