I.
Hungry waves slash
the sides of the ship.
Rocky teeth rip open the clamshell hull,
swallowing meaty chunks of wood and rope.
I slip
over the edge.
Submerged, I swing wildly
toward the moonlight.
I surface.
I gasp.
The ocean’s maw descends again.
I open my eyes to the sting
of salt, the darkness.
I flail toward up,
but maybe it’s down.
My lungs burn, salt in a wound.
I am not sure I’m alive.
Would it matter?
I’m tumbled through the haze,
rolled down the tongue of currents,
the throat of the ocean,
eaten alive.
II.
She was home when she heard it –
thunder in the sky and sea,
the splash and flounder
of bodies in the ocean.
By morning they’d be dead.
Cadavers, flotsam on the tides,
souls lost to the pull of the depths,
hearts and brains and memories: all consumed.
She, alone again.
III.
I dream. I dance. I am digested. I drown.
Limbs wrap my arms
ferrying me to my next life.
Lifting, lifting me to—
I’m thrown to the ground, something solid.
Are there solid things in my afterlife?
Solid pebbles, broken
shells, bone. Bones.
I cough, gagging, retching
dirty water.
I’m alive
to the warm chill of the air, the cling
of debris to my body. My eyes
almost adjust to the darkness.
I’m alive and alone?
Hello?
Home.
I choke on a scream.
Another voice, haunting, a sweet lark song.
Home.
She forms from the pool at the floor–
skin patterned with pulsing black spots,
arms and tentacles amass on her body.
She smiles, mouth full of teeth.
Home.
She points at me.
I know. Food.
Friend.
