subtext

Like an iconic creature boiling

off the bottom of the sea,

dense ripples cross my shoulder

blades clawing the sky for air:

I don’t know where I am.

Fog entombs the shore

along a frothing sea;

I am not a part of either

the land, the air, or ocean.

There is no fire to tend,

no wood, or kindling to gather,

only a vast grey mist

with no source of light.

I say my name.

No echo answers.