“130,000 Inflatable Breasts Lost at Sea”

Bobbing, they meet their first dolphin.
He rollicks, a gray rubber crescent
Sliding between their peachy domes.

Squeaks on squeaks.

But they have not traveled this far
For a slippery mammal. No, they escaped
From their sea crate for more, shook loose
From their tethers, popping out below the ropes
One by one like playing limbo.
They abandoned ship like rats.

To be a giveaway for a man’s magazine,
There was no future in that.
These breasts were born to travel.

And there was never so much sky,
Or seagulls, or albatross. Or seaweed,
Draping their faces like hair, tangling them, encrusting them
With salty, ropy strands so
That some of them could only peek out, shyly.

Some of them will make landfall.
Some of them may even be scavenged, taken up by Somali pirates.
But for now, they float,
Water slowly inching up to their areolas and down again,
Sometimes flooding over their delicate noses momentarily.

Innocent faces turned upward, from a plane they look
Like thousands of eyes glinting, hungry.