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.