something: Polar
North, out here,
there, only blue.
Hefting fish barrels,
sloshing crates of polar
bear livers, eugh.
Bored, the reds
of my eyes
well up, nails splinter
like I dragged 'em
down boards
hey-ho, work to be done.
Pearly sweat
licks my nape
bites as it freezes
frosting my fishstink.
from utterly
nowhere freights
of ice ghostship past,
creaking
under coldstar,
cystic hunks
that bear up
like teeth in the night
I quiver on bandy wood.
You may be suffering
From nematodes, raw
Acute Trichinosis
Watch now, how
the doctor’s tricky worm
clacks against his palette
luminous chunk of moonblubber
pay him no mind,
his version of a hard day’s work
is playing in guts.
The men are grown silent,
beds covered in hair,
skin peeled, we begin
to resemble our catch.
Rocktongued, tightened
and tasting our own iron,
as if we enter, just North
of some deep, inner dark
