Twelve years before, my arms fell off
And scales sprouted from my neck.
Slithering along the shoreline slowly
Waves cradled my shifting frame.
Dandelions bloomed on Saturday.
Fifteen miles below the surface,
I stand three car lengths long,
Feeding twice a day on flounder
And unlucky divers.
Moonlight shone on Sunday.
Seaweed dangles from my jaw,
Skin molded from the pressure,
A mobile mountain through the water
Never sleeping, always floating.
Blue Jays hatched on Monday.
Ruling over the ocean
With a tyrant's fist,
Octopus futilely wrestle my flippers
We sail on through the mists.
Clouds exploded on Tuesday.
Diving ever deeper
I sedate my growing body,
Reasonably aware of my collapsing lungs,
Water wiping away my memory.
Streetlights rattled on Wednesday.
Settling at the bottom my imprint sets,
Twelve more years I'll be humbled,
Two more days, I can forget.
My pocket-watch snapped in June.
Tornadoes sang on Thursday.
Perfect memories of the golden daze,
Spring afternoons walking down Fifth Street
In our drunken haze.
I'm still growing or shrinking.
You set sail on Friday.