Oil Spill

I keep looking at this page
And hoping that some words
Or clever metaphors
Or slick euphemisms would
Float to the surface
And set ablaze my pen
Like some accident that caused
An unnatural disaster. I even

Called up Exxon for ways to
Scrub clean the black tar that
Oozes between the blank spaces
Between these words, and yet
I still come up empty. These waters
Still flow freely,

Clean and unbothered by the tankers
With holes in their bow riding to the
Sunset inch by inch as I stay stern,
Knee deep in crystalline water.

Your port has left my tongue
Anguished for that sweetness that
Turns tart in the back of my throat,
I thought myself a captain in need
Of a skipper but this boat is sinking
And I don’t want to be the cement
That’s tied around your ankles.

I don’t fear flipper
Or the bed that no star can board,
Or the steel beams I’m wielded to,
I fear polluting your waters
With the black tar that
Oozes from this page.

Exxon has already blocked
Me.

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