Sponge

Luscious, mother's breast milk
the pleasure of food, sweetness and cream
the cloth you wore on boyhood time
the blanket you carried in man years,
adding dowries of booze and drugs and painmufflers
Like bells, they toll bellowing, your myriad holes
The sea flows in and out of them as much as it holds
the magical essence of you
fluid, uncharted
You were born a creature of the deep, of the changing and unchained
liquid, if only filling the specks of sand was a dream captured
if only your thirst was to be quenched with saline waters
If only I could cleanse, heal the wounds with your touch