An Octopus

As I saw you, trailing a storm, your grasping limbs tremulous, came to eat the topmost buckle of the rocks. Creative passions washing back, to levy and spend

My bold unlovely yo! Vab or grow you as nothing, it has no claws or hooks In singing schemes to-mail. Moon thoughts shift the sand. Where coral rains fell, telescope cannibal raging heads as you’ll not meet— myself an expectant tide.

• Marianne Moore