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A gun shot through the head and

my father cried last night so loud

I thought he was hiccuping

his shoulders breathing too much

ocean air.

my father cried last night so loud

everything unsalted turned petty, soured

my crowing muscles bled lactic acid and were reduced to

turkey jerky.

my father cried last night so loud

he cut my cries at the throat

told 'em to spin glass chips from my

eyes instead.

my father cried last night so loud

he sent the sugar on my tongue mining

into my teeth for protection

without lanterns.

my father cried last night so loud

and I went digging on the ocean floor

without a pickaxe, without a shovel

a glowing fish showed me the blood type of coral

before becoming the moon

I tried to climb there

without a pickaxe, without a shovel

with just a rope

in the moonglow of the

subzero night

in the waxen desert

where all the water

falls.