Kings of the Pacific

The light was blinding to begin,
as if I'd only been
in darkness before beacons shone from your eyes
like deceptively charming spies,

Persons immaculate

Floating on rafts they had built on their own,
their self-proclaimed thrones,
oblivious to the moans

of the others, drowning,
their flailing limbs surrounding
these castles of the seas.

Primeval gods were awakened,
the others were forsaken;
they screamed "Let us throw splashes of colour
over this dull dome of gray,"

a desperate attempt to force meaning
from a seemingly bland existence.

But then my eyes began to adjust
and so they gradually picked up the dust
on the wooden thrones which had once appeared
to sit Kings of the Pacific -

Cannibals and madmen in disguise,
immediately impaled in honour of their capture.

At last I could look you straight in the eye
and whisper goodbye.