If shellfish tastes like your lips
I’ll be selfish and eat shellfish.
Can you be selfish, too?
Blue fish, blow-fish,
Raw fish,
Come and get some more fish.
Fresh fish, Warhol lips,
Your lips like shellfish lips,
Supplicant lips, hinged hips,
Clamping your lips like shellfish hinges,
A hinged window onto your watery well
And its uncertain prospects.
O strange fish, am I your meal?
Or are you mine?
The heir of Naples might ask this,
His fins like arms, a painted fish.
You are a shellfish
And I’ll be selfish.
Can you be selfish, too?
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