I have
choked
on plastic
for too
long.
Cracked shell,
disfigured
around a
six-pack
yoke.
It’s a
long walk
from the
shore
to the
foam, but
I crawled
there myself –
motherless –
returned to
that place.
To oceanic
comfort,
to conch shell
cradle songs.
Never having
visited yet
always having
belonged.
Genetic GPS.
Salt water
predestination.
I don’t
know why
I expected
jellyfish to
taste like
anything
but poison.
Flip me
back
onto my
stomach.
Throw me
back
into the
sea.
Credits:
Created with images by Pexels - "ocean sea submerged underwater water underwater underwater"