No season I’ve seen. Lightly the algae and I drift.
We resemble each other.
Until a flat fish came hovering,
told me to stop behaving like
Note that I’ll accept letters in the hollowed out
branch near the wing-shaped ledge.
I swear the current changes,
pushes its teeth
toward the back of the island, haunting me. Whatever befalls
me, I’ll dance with it, train it
to yearn with me. But I’ll dismiss
those who come encumbered with fruits and soothe-talks
and too many