Vacant Chests

I fill ye treasure cove wit’ rubies ’n dimes
          They be not essences from th' heavens,
          Bein’ scratched from stolen times
 
Go 'head, pry like a slimy oyster,
          lid up, lid down -- lip up, ’n drown 
Soundlessly shrill
 
Best t' cut down th' middle
Clamp th' sides wit' a crease of pruned chest
          A pinched anchor ... 
          Aye ... ye 'n th' rest 
who sinks in rich septics ...
 
          I keep fillin' ye trove
(I wish ye gummed pearls would dilute
’n brim wit’ jade down t' the root)
          Still we both rove
 
I do not curse th' air fer raging 
fer it still contains me
          as th' same fer th' morose tides
          in ye ribcage  
 
Th' waves be forever constant:
          A sweetly soured map t' be dug ’n ripped
but then waxed snugly as salt be t' th' tongue
          Crack that honeyed doubloon ’cause it be X’s marks th' spot,
          left by another not t' rot
          ’cause we would be landlubbers wit'out it
 
Oh we might not be mornin’ or starry lads,
we might not be present in th' noon
          Ye ’n me chest will stay in th' mystic waters,
          waitin’ not t' be taken but t' bulge wit’ value
 
It be promised that as I add th' bloodstones t' ye chest
'n try me might not t' nab ye garnets
          I be certain that me own kit was not once someone else’s --
          well, most of 'em
 
I hope th' days when me own trove be empty as a scallywag 
'n I perch on th' bay of a slurred abyss,
          some matey would shout, “Ahoy thar!
I spy wit’ me eye a lad that needs some grub!” 
          ’n pour me some spirited emeralds
 
Oh th' nights when I pour dollops or dribbles
while ye does not in turn 
          I sigh t' me map,
          Whar be they?
Where are they?
          Avast mateys, I cannot find me jewels
A cage’s barriers are meant t' hold ye parts
          Whar be they?
Me chest will be forgotten
 
I think of th' times when I can be a landlubber,
when I thought th' North star was in th' South
          I spied wit’ me eye a chest bare in th' seven seas
          ’n I sail after th' strayed gems in th' ripples
They leaked from ye own oyster 
 
I can hear ye breathin’,
          Whar be they?
Where are they?
          Avast mateys, I cannot find me jewels
A cage’s barriers are meant t' hold ye parts
          Whar be they?
Me chest … my chest will be forgotten.

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