House of Bones

I miss it.

I feel it in my throat where it

tightens. My chest is an ocean. My

ribs that of a whale’s.

Inside there are bones in the

sand. I am sifting below in the dark

with no air. I make a home,

breathless and unaware of the

world above me. I scuttle into my

house of bones alone. I eat at dead

fish and pray to a god that wears shark

teeth over its eyes, for it is

dark in the belly of the earth. Teeth

are more truthful than sight in the

black. I die and I live again and

still, I miss it. Under the weight of

water, the dark is a light, and I

hold onto this truth.