i am vertical in the maelstrom

as breaking bows slip through waves;

concentric glass circles

describe tight arcs within drowning figures;

the movement of driftwood;

east to west and back again

ragged fingers and bloodied lips

eyes tearing;

an invisible strait backed dead end

arms and breath fastened tight

choking sea foam;

silvering scattered water light; 

here are all our futures

slipping from your devil’s tongue

ahead of me

before my eyes

for all to see.