Our bodies, antennas for emotion,
translate thought into prickled sensations,
pick up non-verbals like six-pointed jacks
poured inside pelican-swoop shirt-bellies.
Invisible. Weighted. Points protruding.
Feeling becomes a darkened, wavy sea,
a constant meddler,
hid and POUNDING.
Caught in the drink, lifelines seem disappeared.
Waves blur my to and from
in to and fro.
Turbulence becomes normal, my
I am always out to sea
legs buckling beneath me.