The Sex Life Of The Octopus Poem by Alexander Duncan

Seven hundred million years old
Going on three,
The parrot-beaked mollusk,
Tooth-tongued,
Flows forth from his den
Of rocks and beer bottles
On his last hunt.

The 50 pound
Eight-footed octopus
Seeks to do his duty.
His crazy pupil
Scans the horizontal.

Solitary cannibal,
When you find her you will be
The perfect gentleman,
Offering her your arm
For later use.

A thousand suckers
Taste-touch her skin-blood-muscle
Enveloped in eight rope-like arms
Arms wrapped in arms
With quarter-ton eros.

Not given to conversation nor longevity,
Your duty done, you die,
In a model of amorous and familial efficiency.

Now she, once more alone,
Fasts for her children,
Gently blows across
Her precious eggs
To keep them bright and clean as a woven string of pearls.

In a few months
Her pinprick offspring will dye the tide.