My Guardian Angel, Irony

Out of her seed bred vast seas of brackish depth.
The tuna were abundant, as were mermaids.
Perplexed by its achievement,
The god held no grievances.

My bronze toe has grown.
I am mesmerized by its conformity,
And it should lead me into the impenetrable.
But pull back, it’s mouth is open,
Full of dead sailors.

There’s a beach underway,
Held in permanent stagnation.
Palms and buds flourish, lucid.
Clean water flows, a guiltless fluid.

Ninety nine maidens,
A bed of exotic contour lines,
Wave in the sun’s refraction,
Golden statues.

A lawn chair, unfolded,
Rests in the sand, tan and white.
Rust stretches in the laze light,
A fair home.

I’ll stay there,
As crippled eternity limps by,
Wondering in anxiety about things I’ll miss.
Wondering about our first kiss.

Blew it on the last line, didn’t I?
Focus on the rest, for once.