Sonnet after Watching Blue Planet II

Better than therapy is the spectacle of rejection in the deep.
I am no longer Abandoned Wife. I am free citizen of Planet Spectacular
whose mate followed a whim not based in my failing or his
but in a primal scent. Never mind, husband. I am now in love with cuttlefish,

men-of-war, and nudibranchs. I reside with a wooed and cuddly beast:
an umber feline with plush soprano mew and yellow gaze.
Who bothers envisaging unicorns once she’s seen sea dragons?
It’s not that I don’t miss our match, but since you’re no longer you,

who is the he who’s missed? No one: he’s mist. A lost mister in a state
of blah blah bliss, never stopping to question the quest that takes him
nest to nest. Rest, man. It’s all eating and being eaten now we’re us-less.
I heard she left. I didn’t ask; your cousin wrote, thinking I should know.

My advice: stay low. So many hungries want to feed on the freshly stunned
least of these. Avast, old half. Blight won’t last. Currents flow. Feasters sleep.