Seal

His eyes are deeper dark within his dark.

Corkscrewing, dipsy-doing, allez-oop,

he loops the loop, the water his slow-motion

world, this swimmer synchronised with himself.

He floats on his back, lying in the hammock

of his body. This is his gift, his talent: head

over heels, tail over head, unfolding,

barrel-rolling, forgetting which end of him

is which, now all is circle, all is swim.

He surfaces to bark This rock is mine,

lies there, breathing into November air,

smoking the Havana of himself,

munches sprats, mulling over his dance,

offers his stink, his easy-to-please hands.