Ulysses Gets What He Deserves

               For a brunet(te) divorcé(e) his letters enervate—

                         i.

From the bottom of
the sea to someone
crying, my hand on
your shoulder a dragging
anchor, your silence a
crack in the mortar
of my curse, either
get naked for a
stranger or hire you
as a lover to

                         ii.

stage-manage my expectations, let
flame-throwers play with matches
marching over pages torn
from volumes of my
verse in a pilgrimage
to wherever you are,
torch-and-glow the news of
this witchcraft, extracted confessions
with teeth, bleeding salacious
across broadsheets and pamphlets,

                         iii.

this rumour is not
the damage, no, its
touch-and-go wreck the treasure
running out, my ardour
for you in your
distress is not the
mess I want my
kisses to salvage, no,
mister, at least not
yet, smitten with a

                         iv.

written havoc unnatural as
an unchallenged fact, this
trek above water lacks
tact, savages morals its
gain attacks, lest what
I get acquiesce, consent,
imagine that, I like
you better weeping, leaking
tragic messages my own’s
mixture blemishes into myth,

                         v.

unsafe passages tempestuous northwesterly
bruises ink, blushing blue
asking if Ulysses gets
what he deserves, if
you always are this
much trouble to impress,
to get with, or
if you were ever
once successful never getting
possessed, victorious in conquest

                         vi.

as he was blinding
the Cyclops, my monster’s
one eye a sign
that your cave its
winking carves will, by-the-bye,
devour my love’s lie
alive, swallow whole the
blur of its knife
each thrust blunts as
I dive inside, deeper

                         vii.

than either of us
can survive, boy, your
mouth is a vibe,
your tongue a type
of mantra no language
is in the mood
to transcribe, pants off,
pouts pant out fairer
copy, not fair yet,
Ulysses gets it, yes!