the siren calls again,
the clouds parting and I'm smothering chaos in the eye of the storm,
incubating the anger of the skies behind irises that reflect a slate-grey facade
-- and out of the damp silence comes the call.
inaudible at first -> a just tangible titillation of the snare, a vibration of the spine
and brain in sympathetic waves...
...soft enough to ignore, but oh so sweet - so sweet you can't help but hear,
can't help but attach your consciousness to her peaks and troughs and amplify her in your mind...
can't help but apply her to my vision, searching for a resonant groove to ride in.

and by then, of course, it's too late.
her snake's tongue deep in the ear,
until it stretches across the back of the brain and squeezes into my arteries,
traversing through veins and capillaries and igniting a fire like
I've just inhaled a gallon of seawater through the nose, but instead of
spitting it back out I just keep inhaling deeper and deeper and deeper
my lungs filled to a hundred and fifty-one percent capacity and rising like a full-moon tide
now i find there's no such thing as too close for comfort
wash me upon your shores and i'll learn to crawl again just so we can walk the beaches together,
while that moon waxes poetic in the language of wave reflections and surface caustics,
and the sands of remind-me-what-time-is-again stretch out to fold into the horizon
to hear that siren's song again....i would trade every granule of reason she left me with.