Dragon eyes
Like Eliza Doolittle sauntering forth for a day at the races
he sails among the seaweed fronds
bedecked in bizarre and beautiful finery.
He does not deign to flap or swim as the common folk do
but glides with a jet-pack of tiny, whirring fins
so as not to disturb his regal composure.
Cleopatra eyes lined with kohl
dart and flirt
as he peeks alluringly from among the waving branches,
Just another waving branch,
a skeleton with wings.
Pregnant, jilted father:
twisting, winking eyes
inside a hundred pink pearl eggs
are the wedding jewels he wears,
parting gift of the dead-beat wife
now haunting some other patch of weeds.
He adjusts his hat to a more rakish angle
And glides away, invisible grand-dame of his tiny, silent world.
Tracy Meisky is a poet, writer, singer, songwriter and all-around boat rocker from way back. Feel free to look around, but if you break it, you bought it.