Printer Friendly

Aphrodisiac.

 I bought a bottle of powdered seahorse pills
at a head shop,
where I haggled the price down
by five dollars, but still paid too much.
I bussed back to my apartment
and googled the subject: twenty million seahorses
ground down each year,
an ounce of seahorse worth more than
an ounce of silver, and I'm glossing over
at least ten other ostensible facts
about seahorse powder.
Later I read of the fish--
struck by their courtship rituals
it's no wonder these pulverized creatures,
crammed into capsules, parade
their residual affection
as they course through the bloodstream
of men with little libidos.
I could paraphrase
from what I gathered on Wikipedia,
however, the paragraph
on seahorse courtship alone is a poem itself:
"When the female's eggs reach maturity,
she and her mate let go
of any anchors and drift upward,
snout-to-snout, out
of the seagrass, spiraling as they rise."
I'm now obsessed with seahorses.
There's so much beauty in them
and the word seahorse.
I like that I can spell seashore
from seahorse
.
I like to picture the word seahorse
 swimming
too quickly, the letters rearranging
and letting go of the o
,
where it drops to the seafloor.
The word now spells hearses
.
I like to think that each one
of these gelatin capsules
carrying these seahorses
are hearses. I fill a glass of tap water
from the kitchen sink,
place three hearses on my tongue
and tow them into another sea.
COPYRIGHT 2018 Boulevard: Journal of Contemporary Writing
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2018 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Shearer, Sean
Publication:Boulevard
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2018
Words:292
Previous Article:The Ghosts of Samuel Clemens.
Next Article:Rothberg's Father.
Topics:

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2019 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters