The Tentacle

The reach of the tentacle
is far, is an extension of a body
that defies explanation, confounds
the sciences, stretches across the seas.

The touch of the tentacle
is a gift, little plates sucking
the skin, forming rings of connection,
bonding beast to bestial.

I inked your tentacle
to my body, indelling your spirit
into the parts of me that matter most—
the tightly held canvas pulled over my bones.

The tentacle, my totem, holds
all of me in its grasp, may scoop me
into the beak of its mouth, envelop me
with a twin-toned grace.