Muses, are you so many because unity is an act of mind?
Muses, for you, of my time I sing:
Let the sea storm
& the storm smooth stones
& the stones stand grey and glisten
Let the otters kill the crabs
that stand out from stones
until the crabs stand grey and glisten
Let the maidenhead ram
into the corsair stern
until the steel hull cracks the maiden
Let the hull play coy
until the missile destroys
some only corsair’s dream of freedom
Let the brace bend the bite
until the fork tines fit
the bite-size gauged for flavor
Let the renegade flavors flee
the downsized taste
until the bite-size best-fits flavor
Let the sea be an oath
to every bride promised beach
until the world shores mean vacation
Let myth be a dog whacked
to whimper in the night
when in secrecy we crave some ornament