Siren

You are talking of these cities, lost underwater,
Your eyes are marsh lights, my north stars, corpse candles
I know a definitive cure for hiccups: you, laughing as I miss the bed
Wrecker, aleya - I'm looking for buried - fucking - treasure.
Throwing up viscous mud into a plastic bag.
Some broken off hand, glorious
Each finger, burning, spits tallow splutters furious
and is finally extinguished, swallowed.
You are prising my lips apart, iridescent fish-scales beneath your nails
Packing magnesium beneath my tongue.