Pseudopsychosis.

umbilicus /

of this shore / and shattered fingers

like clamshells reddened

to the body of death /

to veteran-ed paralysis /

/ of beauty / the few fingers

of mist / and seas are

in pot-lids of darkness;

my hands / laboring / are ants

to the / father

sea / and the stone

/ the white breast of

/ ribbon bare-bones /

a fetus isthmus under the moon /

epicedium / peels of

muskellunge / and hominids

we sail / to wed the ocean /

in simulacrum of waves.

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Written for the dVerse prompt:

“I’d like you to be inspired by boats. Maybe you’ve travelled by narrowboat, or taken a cruise on a big liner. Maybe you’re a kayaker, or a paddle-boarder. Maybe you built a raft as a child, or made a toy boat out of twigs and leaves. Maybe you’re a rower or a sailor. Maybe you take a ferry to work, or watch other people floating down a river. Maybe you want to write about an imaginary boat, with sails of leaves and a cargo of fairy dust. It’s up to you.”

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