Dim torpedo shapes glide
at the murky edges of perception
in ceaseless motion, seeking
food and oxygen
to fuel the cold fires of flesh
their mouths bristle
with triple-pointed teeth they shed
lightly as the night sky drops stars
into the ocean
Tonight I want to be the shark
drawn by vibrations of ideas in the darker deep
nostrils filled with their essence, I rend form
and structure, brilliant words
tumble from my mouth easily
as shark teeth
as stars
grace the sand
The Daily Compost 