On Seeing Gail Potocki's 'washed Away' Poem by John MacPhereson

Standing at the edge of the beach
and the border of the vast empire
of the sea, the waves crash over
me like true-blue orgasms whispering
of salty fellatio’s muse.

The grains of father time collide
with the inside of my toes, clinging tight
to the coital pastures, raptures
vitriolic vision vanishes nightly
and withers. Dried seaweed past lost.

I let excalibur pierce my inner-self,
both separate and the same as the
lake, fashioned after tragic Avalon’s muse
I take to the deeps in this post coital blues.