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.
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