Marine Theology

Annunciation

They say marine creatures, like mollusks
Write their own scripts with ink, venom and milk.

Biological concoctions of peptides and indigo dyes.
And here life is all about the beautiful prey and her capture.

And we humans call the prey, a mystical gender,
A euphemism, “woman”, radiant and strongly nuclear

We make another euphemism “love” on tender surfaces.
Seeping heart-fluids through a funneling harpoon

A woman can be a tunicate on a rock, flowing and ebbing,
Her body beautifully sessile; the siphon, a little opening,

Taking the feed in. Love was spooned like an ounce of sugar
To a little shrine. The offering of a holy pilgrim.

Like an anchor melting inside of her, cast iron
Oozing out milky nickel, pristine and full of life

Love was an adoration to what was shrouded by a loin cloth.
Milking a little life was the almighty truth.

And now they will wait, for annunciation.

Us

couple-pregnant

We don’t converse as we did before.
Perhaps the cycles in our vocal chords
Have run their lengthy revolutions. Maybe we
Bite our teeth more, clench them every time
We can’t seem to find a new topic.
Maybe we were those oranges, peeled
And squeezed, until all the juice was poured. ,

So what do we do now love?
Shall we reroute our conversations to “what may be”
The future tense explored like a seed
Describing every one of her branches, petals and fruits.

Maybe then we will collect our dreams in a basket
And go on picnics, to where we have never been before.
We will feed us grapes, knowing our ears are fond of them.
We will take avocados, and scrape the pulp.
We will do mushy Kleenex miles
Of how a bird and a bee, could make a little balloon, bloat.

The future holds our conversation
In the absence of yarn from our past. The kites
We can throw to the sky, hoping for God’s Blessings.
A little baby who will transform our
Jaundiced conversations to golden moments.
What will be defined by our unity, in what two bodies can galvanize
In chemical bonding, in unexplored orbitals,
Hitchhiking in each other’s dreams.

– Perhaps there will be an ample time
For some viticulture and vinification –

When a corked uterus,
With a mucus plug called the operculum
Will age inside a cellar. While we buy wine glasses of every shape
And size, too caught up in the fanciful.
And a choice of odds cheering our dreams on.

Pinot noir or chardonnay?
It’s all in the tannins. In the Xs and the Y.

In beautiful couplings of serendipity.

Unwed Mother

Pregnancy

In the final chapter
Of her gestational saga
That begin with a glass of wine
A creature burrowed through lovers lane
Swam through tides of the amnion
To make a little excursion
To life

And in these vicissitudes
Of emotional collapse
And abstruse forbearance
Her heart learned to love beyond
Any residue of fallback hate

And as the umbilical cord
Was severed by a blade
A love-bridge spanned from eye to eye
To ferry a monument
Down a generational rift.

Gestation

Pregnancy

She looks at the mirror
The bikini bod that transformed
To a baby bump, a flesh bud budding
Inside an inland ocean
She knows that their love is meaningless
Unless an alibi resonates from their union
– The legacy of two hearts and one flesh –
Once they are no longer globetrotters
Just ashes on a bed of sediment

She scans with her fingers
The smoothest of her curves – and the raised navel button
As she caresses the palpitation within
Drowning her in a different kind of love
The type that will have gaze-chemistry
Love-biology and momentum-physics
As love pushes out what love pushed in
9 ½ months before…

Bridge

A bedside accident

The legacy of a broken condom

What was sculpted by a bottle of wine

And besieging lust

A divan that laid bare and open

To what two bodies could muster

When the thrush of destiny laid claim

To the miracle of life

……………….

What was absented of sense

But saturated with sentience

As ovulated passion and a wandering egg

Schemed the wrestle of fate

To mastermind the progenitor of a love child

Strange beauty of one act of lust

A child of god nevertheless

Who will soak one heart with affection

Amidst tidal waves of defection

…………………..

Man and woman

Are creatures impaled by chemicals of lust

When the call of the wild roars

In the symbiosis of predator and prey

And in that confluence of two organisms

Rises the organic being

Unmapped by mental faculties

In the absence of a clairvoyant compass

Nevertheless a miracle of kismet

………………………..

And beyond that broken condom

Transcending a broken dream

Is the bearer and keeper of life

One woman shouldering the gravity of guilt

Which will fade like a wilting flower

To the infusion of love

………………….

Two beings bridged by an umbilical cord

By the bridge of fate

A bridge over troubled water

A bridge too near and a bridge to cross

Nevertheless a bridge

To unconditional love

Unwed Mother

I didn’t pop a pill, I didn’t annihilate a fetus

I am not a cold-blooded murderer

That schemed the splatter of blood

Before the splatter of water

I am the keeper of what is freely given

Fate’s endowment, a stranger’s inheritance, god’s intervention

A legacy of one act of love, in one fateful hour

A flower that bloomed in me

Suckling every drop of vitality within me

A parasite that I grew to love and not loathe

A creature semi–lit by the flames of my genes

And darkened by the shadow of my mortality

I was a lover for one night, a mother for an eternity

Me, the bit** who spread her legs to welcome love

And me, the she-wolf who will spread her legs to welcome life

A perennial woman with many hued aliases

Lover of one gender but not of one soul

Mother to one fetus semi-orphaned by fate

Woman of passion and compassion

Bearer of two breasts, bridges between blood and milk, feeding man and child

And apically a mortal of every dimension

Bearer of shame and guilt between two ears

Keeper of life between two hips

Reservoir of unspoken love between two breasts

The dream within the nightmare

The perfection within the imperfection

Love unbridged by an umbilical cord

And preserved in a tender lingering gaze

A miracle schemed by fate and unveiled by time

Love that might not move mountains

But can move any residue of hate