EDEN

A flying fish cracks into a foremast
And rips away from sound - the fish
Slams dead on a quiet deck of eyes
Eying the glowing fennel stalk clamped
under its fin.

Another boat at another plain floats
Alone under the sun - the fine buzz of gnats
In the dead ears of the choleric crew, dozens
Snoring and bloating and stinking and another

Flying fish rips the air and cracks time
And thunders down fennel stalks which ignite
Both crews - the live eyes and the ears of the dead.

After the flames is heard one thud
Of the organic body of the first.