the self as a membrane I cling to desperately
in an extinction event

every tattoo I would like to have
rendered here 

or: a series of weighted blankets customized for people I love
(just enough to provide security 
without uncomfortable restriction)
In a dream, I finally get to see a whale. It rises bubbling up from the sea, froth sliding away from its body, water making way for this great slick island the color of a storm cloud. A storm cloud the result survival. Water knows how to move. I feel small and I know I am. An astronaut—my cells reconfigure in the presence of such scale. Its heart alone could crush me.