the scent of love

The scent of Love.

The tank-ship’s deck was glistering red,
the sea was a translucent, marine blue
mirror which only function that day, was
to mirror the sky; existential love made
the ocean’s ozone, sweet to inhale.

The tankers empty tanks had not been
aired, a build up of gas that had nowhere
to go. Boom! The ship split open like a tin
of tuna, and the sea foamed as she sank
to where darkness is constant.

Soon the sea settled, as champagne in
a glass not drunk, the sea mirrored
the sky again as witness by an albatross,
and the Pacific Ocean’s love for the sky
was as always so sweet to inhale.