Hunger

a poem by Roger B Rueda

I want to live in my old haunt—
And scathing—
With fins sketched out like post
Of brine heaved
From the bottom,
Flashing up at the flare,
Bleaching in the arid warmth.
Feelers of seaweeds,
Willowy, yielding, pungent,
Reaching out to the rhombus fishes
In the water-hide above.
A tongue like freshets—
Fluff and blast
Talking vigorously,
Smoothing out the subsoil,                                       
And lips like pink polyps.
Words descending inside and elsewhere
Like damsel fish—
Dazzling, nippy,
Dashing though passageways
Of esophagus and lips, swung
By gyrations, made off to the deep.