The Giant Squid
There is a mystery that nature offers
As good as Sasquatch or the flying saucers
That swims so deep the probing sun will fade
To black to it, but if you were to wade
Just ankle deep then it will know of you.
But you won’t know of it. The only view
We have of it has come from random corpses.
The sea, once sacred (who knows why?) to horses
Belongs only to it; we know when whales
Had legs, before they fused into their tails
And so much more, but still the giant squid
Remains unseen. Supposing that we did
Come across one lurking in the dark,
Illuminated by the little spark
A diver brought with him? Would it then burn
With all the fury given it by Verne?
Would it resent the veil torn from its night
And use its tentacles to squeeze real tight?
While calmly floating in a swimming pool,
Where water bends to pleasure’s iron rule,
Who hasn’t felt within themselves the wish
To be unknown, to be the devilfish?
I’m sure it's part of us to want to be
The ocean’s scourge, the sea’s necessity.