waves against my feet break foam,
a convulsing mouth
body trembling
god again
mad.                   the world wallows.
the trumpet has blown.
i am thinking
who to kiss         for the last time.

mad dog basks    in the october sun,
wags
his tail at the gate
his body jitters at the sound of my feet
night after night i watch him starve,  
foam from his mouth
is an ocean—
my body convulses
                             i am unprepared.
i dream of a girl
dead to me
growing fins, a tail, a swim-bladder
to regulate buoyancy

i sink
to the floor        under an open faucet
i have cut my body
in place
of a kiwi             my hands

sour
                          holding the dead—

in the doctor’s office
where my wounds are dressed
then undressed
the cubical walls
converge

nemo in the fish tank
with her fins her scales her gills
looks stoic,
behind the glass       my dog
unkind  
                               reincarnates
it is simple.
at the sea, nobody
could swim.
the fishermen laughed.

i was mute since birth
so the dog now a fish
speaks a language
only I
translate.

hear me
i am here now.
i want to upend the world
                                  in small
                                  digestible
                                  proportions.