by William Snelling

o fist of cold / o glass green skin of the world / o shivering splinters glittering / i’m the chandelier that hit the marble floor / atoms pulsing / the water dissolving the page I stained with a dark blue bloom / this is home / this Milky Way of algae strokes / far-off constellations / surface skimmed by airborne shadows / everything utterly directionless / everything swinging on an axis / and the salt burns off that old tattoo / the exaggerated shrug / the please and thank you so much / now i’m the black dot of the buoy / not a newspaper folded on the mahogany table / not standing over the waves, and wondering how it might feel to jump in / or what the sunset means to say to me / and not letting this light slink away