Serrated oysters carouse across beaches
Made of sharply cut glass and dildos
Honed on the scrimshaw of a thousand years
The walrus lurches forward on fat-laden haunches
“Oh please, oh please, cut my bristles for me!”
He cries as he throws his bulk on the surf
Searching with his tusks for the teats of Lady Blue Water
With a great slap and a crash a humpback comes up
Displacing such froth as only a whale can
The dodos and the pelicans, the gulls and the shits
All stare in wonder at the diamonds in the froth
And afar on a cliff from a tower made of stone
The last watcher stares out with nary a drone
From his pipe, hot and long, he breathes deep and sighs
Settles in the armchair his father despised
Lifts a book, dull and gray, with a dangerous smell
And slips between the pages—
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