It is shrieking. It is frothing. Its spine is twisting is knotting around limbs and fingers
White shattering mouths gasp for breath at the surface and heads crash dead on rocks
on soft beach spinning murders splitting and sliding back down. Those aren’t
just fingers. Those are backs that is rippling blue flesh so raw it shines. It is
writhing. It is choking on pieces in its gut it is not okay.
He says he will be buried here on this bluff. I say I’ll be married. Hazy
soft blue ocean fuzz blurs beneath and we watch bleached sailboats sliding watch
the pink with toes on matted grass and red wine in our teeth. We watch the
night dance over and into its blue until it goes dark. And it will be all gentle.
And it will be all good.