Kyle Marbut
Octopolis
Now comes the news that octopuses
have been building their own cities down there.
— Phillip Hoare, The Guardian, Sept. 18, 2017
I would like the octopus
who finds this
after the rising sea
has made ghosts of us
to know the window
he slipped in through
used to be mine.
This washed-out room
was a palace,
the swollen books
full of spells,
the picked-clean
skeleton in the corner
a lonely king. I left
my tomb open
for him to find
so he could
keep me company,
build a city
out of these relics —
maybe he could
love them better
with his three hearts
than I ever did
when I lived
a long time ago
above the crashing
blue sky. I'm leaving
my windows open,
this poem on my desk
under three heavy rocks,
so he can see
how much I miss
this old life of mine.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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