Poem: Do Brown Cows Produce Chocolate Milk?

I slipped on a rock by the ocean

and fell down below the surface,

sinking

slowly

past

seaweed

and

school

fish,

to the silted, still, below.

 

I sat swathed in the dusk

of a bottomed sea,

foaming from the cracks in my skin,

the dark places the water blithely pried into,

like fingers, wriggling, and ripping outward.

 

Up

Up

Are octopi

                                         and whales,

                                                      sharks

and jellyfish,

     seahorses

 

frolicsome in a sunlit drape,

suspended like playthings from worn out

shoestrings–

I sat on the floor in silence.