Swirl | Martin Shapiro

You, softbody whose secret beak
slices shells to inject venom,
jetted to the sea bottom
spurting black ink in your wake,
folded yourself into a fissure,
matched its darkness and texture.

But you approach my dive today
gently brown. You extend a tentacle
to my wetsuit and attach it.
How sweet does my spandex taste?
Spin me: My gearload is light
and blows a swirl of bubbles.

Martin Shapiro’s poems have been published in the Potomac Review, Delmarva Review (Pushcart-nominated), Pilgrimage, Phoebe, Pilgrimage, Gargoyle, and other literary magazines. His chapbook, Drinking in Queens, is a finalist for the Comstock Review chapbook contest. He is a retired librarian living in Maryland.