The pirate had eyes filled with jaguars,

Can jaguars swim? 
And hands of a grasping nature. But no paddle, 
no boat and no woman to make love to. 
I said, are you a murderer? 
He said no, but I might be. 
I wished I had a jail in the garden to put him in. 
He reclined like a comfortably muscled animal 
into my roses. 
Do you miss the ocean? I asked. 
Are you wet? He said. 
He smiled like a torn apart building, open and breezy. 
If I had a limousine, he said, 
it would be long and gliding. 
I nodded, he was right, it would be. 
There was a dot of blood on his neck 
where he touched my rose bush. 
He popped the tab on his illicit cola. 
I said is it good? He replied no it’s bad 
and I sipped it and it was. 


Annaleese Jochems is a Creative Writing student at MIT in Otara. She likes getting in other people’s way in bookshops and having long chats with herself in the shower. Her work has appeared in JAAMPoetry NZBlackmail Press and others.