Pearls
Your attention while you’re opening them is
fiery,
they oppose your inquisitive blade,
As if to purposely defend some desirable
gem.
In honesty, I extract an unspecified  juicy pulp
for a cool
drink,
the fruit peelings become a fragant
piece
More gathering from the licorice sand, a suppressed
evil.
I bring forth one, the white muscle bluish,
frustrated, quiet in its salt water secretions
resembling profuse sweat
used up in the attempt to stay
sacred.
I mesmerize in it,
one moment of an aphrodisiac drug, and I go back
to my unyielding labor, all
Bay Harbour.
Arranged outward before you,
brink of the familiar universe.
I realize what remains,
bluish-gray, concaved-shelled