The Taken

Wrapped up in ocean fog
              to be read with prescription
binoculars as I would compile
                              secret inventories
minus any lyric disclaimer
              with a Fuck Death harpoon tag
                                                tipped up on end
                              heartstrung & vague

a skateboard knifing the
              pavement session recurring
in a palm grove of his own devise
                              so teeth like beads or arrows lift
unanswered the humbled reserve
              you put near your ear expecting
moonlight & the defensive swami

Getting there wasn’t easy
              beneath parachute winds a chamber
redolent the slow breaking morning glass
                              you feel in your knees
& the long paddle back guided by a more
              abstract reason swept from yr eyes

left a ragged scar along the side of
              the incandescent haze
where a shadow hand might try to obscure
                                                however futile
                              the evidence of our escape