

DECEMBER 2024
​
​
this one sneaks in underneath my skin
four rinds oscillating in the artificial wind
interrupting my Thursday morning.
​
[even] The Seven Seas took me and made me go nowhere
but first to the shore,
and then it dripped me into a timeless pit of gleaming cells.
I’m like you, I nod, me too,
I’m bleeding from my shells.
We spent last spring leaking chlorophyll and here we are waiting for the afternoon sunshine. Hooked from the solar plexus just like Marina back in the days but a little bit less dramatic. Casual Caucasians hanging around the grids and gatekeepers. what’s left when we have all dried up?
​
​
One lonely fish is left on the ground.
waiting to be hung, or simply relieved to stay in the left?
the hooks are too big and I notice them too late but just in time to get scared. 17 minutes in is the perfect time to be lightly scared and slightly exhilarated. as I get close, I wish came early
you’re shimmering.
would I shimmer too if someone were to place themselves right here, this close to whatever xanthophyll still remains
​
​
tear me up, dry me and hang me from those hooks
a see-through, stretched-out sack of skin, barely touching its kin
​
​
you howl in sorrow and it sounds like my heart when it is about to break
shallow, dense, flickering
five lines, five hooks, through your mouth their mouth the mouth of the fish and into mine no flesh, no spine,
but seven layers of scales
​
​
crusty locks and orange shadows
a memory of moist and coiled formations, tender edges, silklike curves
​
​
– ooking from this angle I see all angles –
no rainbow, no rainbow, no rainbow
but a multitude of faked shadows, mixed and mashed by
​
​
fluorescent tubes beaming
and then, there, beneath it all algae in its most classic form
(a clump)
same skin, different Thursday