Bareback-riding blue whale stars,
Stirrups smelted fishing scars,
In his grip, sea-scimitars,
Poseidon’s hooves in necklace jars.
Poseidon’s blood his tattoo-paint
Across his nose and briny face,
Proteus blind, a drowning saint,
These brutish oceans will embrace.
Reins abrasive, totems clutched,
Trident eyes tell of a place
Where skin’s by sun so rarely touched,
Where islands sank without a trace.
Seven Hundred Jisei 