diving belle

Diving belle

You're all locked-up like
a submarine,
a diving belle
corroding at the seams.
Your salty tears
leaking out?
Or my hungry sea
eating its way in?

Doesn't matter, I guess.
Your lips are well-sealed
and mine sink ships.
So if it takes years
to loosen those bolts,
to open that hatch,
and peer through
your periscope eyes,

it doesn't matter.
A good sailor can wait.
Just let me grab those handles
and hold my breath
as you go back deep,
cold and dark.
I'll cling along,
just for the ride.

oil, collage on photo, 28" x 20", 1999

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JAMES W JOHNSON