In the sea, I awoke,
wet, under the sun,
taken into time by
the lord of anxiety.
Grief and instability covered my skin
like the suction of an octopus’
tentacles. It held me, carried me down
below where the pressure is unbearable,
and strange fluorescent creatures thrive.
I landed on the sand-smoky floor, without
a spoonful of oxygen, murdered by an immutable force.
I died that day, chained to the nadir of my zodiac-
once a living woman, now chewed at by tiny mouths,
soon to fossilize in this wet, unsentimental grave.
More at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.
