A Sketch
for Jennifer
(whose eyes are baby-blue with a slight circle of yellow around the pupil)
I decided to embark on a skiff *
to skim the surface of steely-blue eyes.
A vessel well suited for the task
maneuverable I could look over-side.
“I can put an oar in this iris-water,
and keep nearby the safe heart-harbor.”
But I fell to dreaming in my cradle-boat,
so blue, so cool, so clean was the water.
Those sweet, soft, waves of serenity,
with easy hands, they pushed me far from land.
How many sailors sounded the sea-floor,
falling over with wander-minds like mine!
The liquid topaz, stretching forever,
withholds wonderful things to tell:
life stories of past, present, and future;
her eye will see all that I want to know.
Just to crack the steely-lens, to get below;
but the cold-blue liquid remains aloof.
Those baby-blue crystal tides treated me well,
but failed to take me on the course I wanted.
But steering my own, I soon veered off,
and stumbled to a black, pupil-abyss.
First came the choppy, yellow-tipped waves,
which frothily circled the whirlpool.
They stood between serenity and despair,
with a rough hand; tossing me here and there.
Always churning, always seeking to feed
that swirling pit, which falls forever.
Fearing emotional death and torment,
I resisted the self-doubting pupil-hole.
“I won’t suffer this, not this time, not now:
woman of the sea, now I know for sure,
that you really don’t care for me!”
Rowing till my spine broke and lungs split,
I back-paddled through the way which I came.
Escaping death, panting, sweating, bleeding,
I fell face down, exhausted in my ship.
The change came fast; it happened so quickly,
all was over in a mere heart-second.
Face up, I awaken with salty-eyes;
that ocean water of a common sort.
With my skiff-sheets tangled in a mess,
the florescent-sun smiled down on me,
amused by the whole ordeal.
