I turned my body into a pill and swallowed it

It feathered me, it freed me, it made me

well. Lifted dread, frizz, small pieces

stopped falling off. It floated me, it

rode on the back of a squid, it had no

bones to pick about anything. It washed

up on the beach, a green bottle with a

message: consume me. It fell

onto driftwood, became a white and

red rowboat crashing waves, smashing

into seawalls. Grand illusions bobbed

like dollhouse miniatures, clock

hands that measured worth spilled into

the ocean, drugging time. It was anti

everything: histamine, racist, biotic,

frantic. Aches left, heartache hovered

and drifted away. It twisted me in

seaweed, made me thirsty for salt,

drained my cup that overfloweth. It

blossomed into red and white

anemones, a box of oysters, rose water.

Mer-priests anointed me, flipped tails,

get your canons off me! it screamed

underwater. Propelled me into a new

tide, hauling sea-ass, scraping coral,

singing with jellyfish, stinging me holy.

_______________________________

Originally published in emerge 23, The Writers Studio Anthology, 2023.