Yard Sale of Thoughts

Gravel beds grumble.
In my dreams, I return to the place
where I was hatched.

Leap the turbulent sky
over a dam of stars
to migrate towards my own
maturity, accepting aging
as a programmed process.

The storm has me shivering.
What will become of me?
The mirrored moon reveals my
Canine-like teeth,
humped back,
protruding lower jaw.

I will not dig a ditch
with my kin,
deposit my spawn
and cover them again
with tapered fin.

I exist only within
the sky’s circular pen,
but as the night’s tide rises,
I become greater
than the sum of my parts.
Despite the lice
and well-controlled parasites,
the mesh is getting thin.

A raindrop of wisdom
on a burnt thumb.
A breach in the clouds.
A full moon salmon run.

©2023 | K.F. Hartless

Artwork: ĆENHENEN

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