in the dark a red thrum quickens
the edge of remembrance like light’s
first glimmer across the sea
I trace my gnarled fingers along the slick
interior walls to justify what it is
that pushes back my intentions
like the egg in childhood’s experiment
which floats in a glass of salt water
I drift seemingly unsupported
with vague suppositions and
innuendo to tangle like seaweed
trapping my voice below the waves
and what I would if I could speak
drowns in my first breath
like a fish mouthing silent words
(February 3, 2021)
subtext 