In waves

they come in waves

breathing

the rise and fall

of chest, shoulders and lungs

water running in a rhythmic sweeping

of sands

and the shells  and dead pale corals 

break  into the foamy cycle

the staccato of blinking eyes

and choked sobs and thrusting limbs

ready to burst into flaming percussions

still in waves

we cling through boards and shipwreck

planks through a sweep of white fire

enveloping a non-nauseas state 

of pure, unfiltered gas

we heave in deeply to rip the 

throbbing flesh out by its hind legs

and it struggles and grabs all

innards in its way out. 

It's bulbous head and flailing arms

stuck between sphincters and intestinal

entry ways

and so in waves we feel it

envelop from within

puncturing in pinprick precision

sandy scraping through open tissue 

coral etching a messy aimless decoupage tattoo 

till we are inside out, breathing.

nothing left but pure

unfiltered gas

waiting to be lit.

March 27, 2013

3:24 pm