a hand that reaches through my body, stuck
halfway between the first and second rib
delights in how I pulsate, how my veins
embrace my blood and take it to my brain
which then attempts to build a barricade.
clench those bones, snap your fingers,
throw bones in the stream to stop the pain.
and any part of me that trickles to the floor
won’t matter to the sea, that hand
or me, at all.