Leviathan

I smell it.

A form floating 

A body who yearns for more than the land.

Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, limbs spread…

Only the slightest tension remains–

Willing to die.

The only way to hold such a woman is to swallow her.

And I am the Whale.

Jaws wide,

Whirlpools are born, 

I am the undertow.

Their flesh in my throat.

Their weight added to mine.

I can feel my insides more deeply with their intrusion.

Dreaming,  they begin to grope – a slow panic stirs.

The beginnings that began as The-Torn-Apart.

This is how pearls are made.

I am the Whale.

The sea, incarnate.

The storm slows; it is nearly finished,

No longer does their form collide; they almost seem to glide.

It is time– 

Before they join that chorus 

Of wailing ghosts in my throat–

From end to end, deep within

I begin to heave.

Pulsing–rhythmic–rapturous

I am the Whale

Raising the tide with my exorcism.

Finally, the motions have kicked in

Relaxing–

Gaping wide–

A heave!

A roar!

Silence.

The chime of a bell,

She glistens,

Naked and nacreous,

A Pearl thrown into the radiant sky.