84

I am the monstrous villain of the sea

on earth, and my birth was long prophesied 
by those with a mind to make history
conform to their strictures as memory:
I woke to the smell of rocks, the color
of blood, mixed with chalk, poured down impassive
against the azure which seemed to hover
in bright relief against earth, aggressive:
I was born at this very point of cut
between the brown and blue, between green
and the clear blade of the cut as not cut –
Here I emerged from waters so pristine:
The ground is fertile around me, and I
live off its fruit – but I die for its dye.
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