Poems 1 min read

Postcards from the Sea

Tucker Guillot
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Tape this postcard to my eulogy
Let it air out in thine breeze
The other people will need something to see
Some island venture they need to believe
A pure myth that they can understand

I remember that island in fact
I watched it devolve into the tide
And the treasure chest I buried there
Has nothing left inside

I used to worry that the wild wolves would find me
That they'd disembowel my every hope
They'd bite my poor decrepit ankles
And push me down the sandy slope

But I tell ya now, in vital clarity
These nightmares are not real to me
They stalk me from the depths of my sleep
And I know I'll drown if I get too deep
But alas, I've lost the demand

I know the vague consequences
But I also know her indomitable beauty
Oh, a sweeping choir descends on the sky
When she bats the blue world out of her eyes

Yes, I also recognize the inconsolable loneliness
To these wolves, I have no answer
But the sweet taste of a Hellenic face
Leaves me the bard and the dancer

And I promise you with fidelity
I will take that Goddess to the sea
I will cut my soul and let it bleed
At the chance of being able to heal
To find true love, fictitious or real