Jin
In the night tree bark sticking my legs are wet ||indecipherable from raft what holds what|| holds the water up and then down That cracker with the vocals belching and dragging through waves || unwilling as seaweed strings she is crooning, I am you you are me… ||dotty old bitch it’s too much.. when last night I|| saw the piles, the dirty face up rag faces whole baskets of them so many crushed collars || and ties no-one touches them but the heads pop|| up balloons or monsters just to hide I wanted to hide even wave blankets|| would do yet nothing holds, except that old ear|| wig buzzing out tunes. She poses like a siren smashing our fate in the rocks if|| only there were rocks…she is crooning , you are, we|| two and the third one is gone wave upon wave the wind cups the words back to surf yet last night the dark||ness turned all words to snake hiss…I saw. I tried to|| stop looking. But the edges crept in the piles I thought it was land banks of sand but when I ||looked my stomach waved up green I made to move but my chin stuck the smell of|| the piles was wet rot fish heads gangrene in|| my throat, in my head, I made to move but there was a man hand in my hair I unfurled one|| aged claw.. sticking sticking maw of corral maw of hell get it off off then|| Sol was roaring his men roaring and row||ing their fists the whack of oars noses skulls all beaten up flesh it all piled up a new steam||ing stink I remember when I don’t have time|| to remember a dive one of those damp ones …. in another time with a beady landlady ||tucking secrets away in the eaves atop ||the mantle coiled in stinking doilies…… the new pile….. shirts over heads soiled|| soil how the sea soils just the same dirt is dirt I must forget ||everything Wills was under the arm of Ern who was hiding behind a pile. || His rubbery lips were moving was he|| praying? Not the type too wooden, he’s made for a raft. I’ve heard him groan shake his lame leg|| a-scuttle from one patch it job to the next || That Wills nesting in his shadow, soldiers warned me about him the king and Lope wasting his || bottles of bromide ipecac opiate || chink chink as if things could be 258 | saved there is no use in the night the doctor ||bagged a few I saw it all the wind/ wave/ ||white coat concealing sabre Ern bleating a group of them bleating/ bleating no wool in their|| eyes rational action blues just the same ||white coat opens on sabre/ insert in heart/ stop/ twist/ pooling arteries/ chambers quartered/ next|| insert in windpipe/ stop/ thrust/ stop/ snapping neck/ snag ||of/ head. Next insert above belt/stop /liver melt/ flail stagger/stop. I saw how they plan|| to keep the numbers down Sol’s roaring his men||’re roaring at night with no more fingers to count now the piles the piles number twenty|| thirty Sol’s men now must pay for the wine, || Mon Suet says, with their livery livery blood stop how did this what about Ern’s rules | what about what sea law what could I|| do I lay there blinking it down wave / I wave/ I battle thrust wave /thud I|| tried to screech/wave /stop it stop it wave /Ern behind ||Lope behind Boy, behind he who was not there wave/ wave/ the night as long as a rope ||wave/ I was tree logged, screeching but what is one sound dotty was singing.|| She kept singing. Dog was sleeping between|| the killings, always at night, the peerless night the night, with no moon about it no words || only whispers huddlings no one trusting|| no one. Hand to gun, gasket, sword and then what? Lope claimed there were threats… to the leader… ||dotty sang his words: The unseen waves of terror the unseen but growing.. ||melee… The leader is in danger ||as such All threats were considered acts all acts were not just unreasonable, but treas||onable and all charges were brumby-mad.|| And dotty stops. But nothing stops. Everyone got it Rope Boy charging Lope charging|| Sol charging Ern screaming off you ……. off you Then Lope pulling out a red rose|| fist from someone’s side so bright, bright red his|| fist dewing blood the unknown man falling falling. Ern sliding his leg to Lope’s side… Wills ||dribbling Counting themselves a feather of white backs crowing what luck|| the organs mush mush ing