Octopus

Andrea Gibson is a goddess of a poet, and she recently shared something on facebook about how octopi have 3 hearts. For some reason I kept thinking about this. After a quick wiki, I learned, among other things, that they also have really good memories, and evade danger by changing color, expelling ink, and dropping limbs.

All this got me pretty excited, so here’s my bit of fun about an octopus:

 

Surfacing

She crawls along the ocean floor,
upturning rocks and scattering sand.
The water’s growing far too deep
and a lightning storm’s at hand.
Her skin, fluid and shifting,
a twilit autumn sky,
blushes darkly to reflect
the coming of the night. 

She’s trying to escape
being wanted or preferred:
two hearts lie silent in her flesh
she cannot spare the third.
When camouflage runs out
it’s on to spilling ink,
a cloudful of words.
Pursuers pause. 

She thinks:
A body is heavy when it’s dragging along
two failed hearts
and a cluster of arms
wrapped tightly around
dead trophies of the past.
It’s time to leave behind
the memories at last:
the blood of one lover
the face of another
clutched in tentacles, fall:
Her shape is uncovered.

Soon the living heart is pushing 
the dying hearts apart
They tumble far below.
She’s propelling forward.

With a start
She breaks the surface
New breath, new feel
No more tangle of arms
Not octopus: 

Electric eel.