The Eel

What is this bed of shattered light?

That dances on the river bright

Water diamonds pirouette

Reminding us least we forget

That Eros comes through the open eye

That drinks in both truth and lies

That finds itself on the line

That separates hell from the divine

Is this a wayward witch’s chime?

Devotion is the lover’s gift

That gives the gift of deep respect

That wants only a soft subtle sigh

When orchids rot and tears don’t dry

A saint may find a wishing well

And see the serpent face of hell

That glitters on the dark green slime

Leaving teeth marks in the rock sublime

Do all torrid words have to rhyme?

Perhaps I am the dancing water light

Red wine Irish eyes so bright

Or a demon scent straight from the dregs

That captures oblations between her legs

Then punished like Ereshkigal on a peg

But least this not end in fun

A jig fueled by some Cuban rum

So many treasured and trampled paths

That’s lets us adore who laughs last

And find solace in light brown grass.