|Martin Ramirez [Ricco/Maresca Gallery]|
Dante & the Sea Lions
The divine comedy of sea lions
mandates that everyone goes anywhere.
Circles are how you spline
through waves, then surface & stare
at whoever stands chilly
on the wharf admiring
your choreography — Alvin Ailey
despair! — no human glide
compares to waterborne grand-pliés.
Dozens of you lie splayed
atop, beside the next
gashed & scarred about your hides.
Are the wounds from sparring for sex
or spinning blades? chemicals?
The pale one’s back is flayed, deep red —
it must hurt like hell
unless the maimed creature’s already dead,
queueing for space in Charon's hull.