Sea Voices You arrive in a straight line. Your bangles and dangles follow, chattering like miniature parrots. Your leather luggage suggests turtles basking on weedy rocks. Your smile levels the hired help. I found the corpse of your latest lover washed up on the beach. The great white sharks rejected him after sampling his bitter flesh. If you were the yachting type I’d say you pushed him overboard, but you get seasick just watching the combers roll up on the sand. The hotel is a massive cake decorated by expert bakers. You’d like to slice off a slab and devour and digest it with cunning giggles and smirks. Tonight at dinner you’ll explain yourself with allusions to books you know I’m too old to read. Your jewelry will fail to dazzle because I prefer my minerals uncut and fresh from bedrock. But later from your wrought iron balcony we’ll listen to sea-life plot against evolution, squid with their thin voices, crabs grumbling, whales and dolphins speaking plain serviceable English. We won’t hear the great white sharks complaining about your lover’s toxic flavor. We’ll hear something deeper groaning in dark so absolute the moon can’t tempt it to rise and show itself in primal spectrums you’d envy. You’ve never been naked enough to discover them in yourself.
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Dogs Don’t Care (2022). His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals.