Hazel and Hazel and Chub Chub

Hazel and Hazel and Chub Chub
Sail a sargasso sea,
With one lone oar between them,
And a wisp of a willow tea.
Time draws down to a gallop.
The still life catches the mane
Of the giant pale moon,
And the beggar swoon,
And the sharp contrast inflicts pain.
But what will become of the cytoplasm
Of the rich, embryonic boor,
Lapping up onto the piggybacked waves,
Sanded to sail no more?
And will they cry for their master?
Will they bleed into the sea?
Or will they fly with the
Naked night sky
And tremble to think they are free?

-jenn long