I had more than stuffed myself
but there was more
orange-laced and dainty
lay on the collagen plate.
Languidly we broke cake, pulled
over the shallows,
cast round to fill sockets,
and our blabbing, welling,
slopped in aural saucers,
taken by the wrinkle
of a whirlpool, of funded rocks:
or we might capsize,
dash ourselves and clean up,
or only bother surface,
surface that is all smiles and
grimaces, its button anus,
button omphalos, the seam
keeps, seam that haunts
our party on its errant scow
dredging nonchalantly.
Trailing all our hands we
could use our teeth to pick
the one stitch in nine
apt to pull the plug.