When A Whale Longs For Morphine
In May, you declared it an art
spreading as oil in saltwater,
invading the instrumental.
At cliff edge, we broke bread one last time,
white flecks littering my lap
like snow in Shangri-la — you joked.
What else will I miss in paradise?
How an ocean waves greenly,
a hand gesturing to leave in ancient silence?
How we lay in a temperate swell,
anomalies obscuring the darkening scan?
My dress blown high with delirium,
cruising you to heaven, knowing
June will come with fevered sleep,
—our trade incurable.
Men lean in, showing me how a sail
doubles to swaddle our worth
— how corners fold to retain the sky.
And in going under, how exquisitely coral
blooms. An endangered lung —still full.
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Exclusive to the Silver Branch series
"June will come with fevered sleep,
— our trade incurable."
'When A Whale Longs For Morphine' – an eco-poem from my @blackboughpoetry.bsky.social #SilverBranch suite.
Read the full feature here: blackboughpoetry.com/about-1-1
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#ecopoem #poetry #ecologies