End Of The Line

I have sung
end-of-the-line another fatal time.

numb-tongued and bereft
of refrain

the stale stained
spokes clang on and on

the other side of your game:

fishy and piggy
in love although maimed

my siren call
reaches
no one left at home

in conchcave.

Remember
that I was smooth and nude,
when you untangled our sea web.