The fisherman’s wife
You brought your wife in
in a net
a dark treasure captured at sea
she had been tossing from wave to wave with abandon
so you took her home.
her nakedness tastes clear and briny
like licking mollusks
skin smooth sleek and cold
she still had seaweed in her fleshy crevices
seashells for hair clips tangled
she had lived windswept
on some distant rocky outcrop in some far off bay
which you can still see in the background of her eyes
now she lies on your hearth rug
leaving a pool of seawater on your floor.
each night you take her moist body,
beautiful to behold
shining in the candlelight or
glowing by dying embers
she gazes into you
and out the other side
and beyond you to the window
which looks out on the sea.