The jaw of a brother

The jaw of a brother hangs over your doorway 

like a sinner.

Tantalising adrenaline,

the bliss of the risk

keeps you coming back into the cage

sleek as a seal,

still impassioned when

this churning womb claims payment.

A well-known fact: my whole life, I must swim. 

A never-ending pilgrimage 

keeps me breathing. 

So then, what is the cruelest crime you

can commit against me? Saltwater thumps

at the boat, rhythmic as a heartbeat. 

You pick up a knife, carve off my sand-paper limbs and let

them boil alongside garlic and herbs while you toss

my dusky remains overboard and 

I start to sink deeper, 

deeper, 

drowned.