Freaking twice, in real life by a grey-green beauty
with sapphire eyes;
their rockpool laboratory ankle-deep under a headland
in a state of collapse.
At the second tap-tap, hypotheses ninefold swirled
in feverish sand. Listen yet –
Observe how the curio moans, withdraws, symptomatic
of a nervous central brain.
In clarity’s way, the sun’s dark twin.Tentacles, anyone?
Tease what you can … 
Even I, akimbo in a world of wind, see octoprotocols
urge retreat, cometlike,
to a seasnail-splattered rim. There, in the pink-green
crackling dissonance,
élite concentration with no field report – just a bustling
cloud of nine minds to run
rings around, bar a weedy lair, or swat subconscious fish
and share from a sand-wall
the last and first sapphire test. My heartbeat cavorts
like a satisfied philistine.