Black water is rising out from the heavens
as tin and plastic fish scatter
towards no certain direction,
drifting to an unending search for nothing.
I stand here, alone on galvanized sea floor
on a shallow part of the make-believe two storey sea,
waiting to be rescued,
or be drifted away—save me.
It’s been 43 hours. It’s been a while. Please?
Little droplets be part of the sea,
I wish they’d stop raining down on me.
The violent whisper of stone cold winds
cut invisible flesh wounds on my skin.
Here I am—stranded,
hoping that mishap come no more.
I beg mishap come no more.
At last! I see light aside from the dark thunder clouds
which haunt my days.
Is it the sun? The hot ball that ends the cold.
Is it a rainbow? The arc that marks the end of the rain.
Is it a helicopter?
The mechanical bird that will take me to safety.
Oh no, it’s lightning—more rain.
Great, what now? An ocean.
