Warships

Warships
Steel horses whipped
Across the sea,
Cutting through our maternal
Liquid
Blue and green blood;
Red blood spills
Where blue blood fills
Cash-laden coffers
Lined with coffins of poor folk

Warships
Ship sons off to war
As mothers wave white hankies
Waving to Yemaya
Pantomiming a ritual glory
Grieving with joy:
My boy is a man
Wearing women’s blue jeans

Warships
Storeships of silence
Spreading death upon the land
Like sprinkling salt
From the sea,
Striking from a distance
Leaving people in silence,
Dead:
Living tissue and bone and hair
A plotted coordinate on a map
Planning an attack on the earth
From the safety of the sea

Warships
Worshipped like
Sacred whores once were
Conferred with mystic power
Teaching men about flowering
Service;
Warships are women
Teeming with seamen
Flinging phalluses with fire
Scorching your mother’s pussy

I’m a warship,
Watch as I slip
Across the sea,
See me from beneath
I look like a pussy,
A slit
Backlit by the sky.
Warships are like razor blade lips
Cutting through swollen ocean tits
Sailing on a heading
Full steam ahead.
I’m a warship,
A metal goddess
Worshipped by seamen,
A whore stripped of my sacred.
My sacrament is fire,
A funeral pyre.
I am driven by the passions of men
Who hunt the globe
And return to their women
Waving their empty hands
(They left their kill behind),
Hands over hearts
Saluting a flag soaked in
Salt
Blood
And semen