Amphibian

 

In my sleep, in my sleep, I am pulses of purple. My eyes
I can see from the outside. The sea is around and around
The small me in my sleep. Amniotic hypnosis pulls me
To the depths. I am born of the sea, I am shaped like these
waves. 

In the daylight I walk to the corner and edge, to the tooth
And the elbow, to pyrite and glass. Every step becomes firm
On the concrete — the echoes staccato, the distance discrete.
I know where I am headed. I see all directions for miles. 

When the sunlight intrudes on the sea, it illumines the beasts.
When the sea washes over the land, I am knocked from my feet.
I’m at home where I am, I’m in danger always, I can breathe
Through my skin. And the shoreline traversed changes nothing
at all.

J-T Kelly

J-T Kelly is an innkeeper in Indianapolis. He lives in a brick house with his wife and five children, his two parents, and a dog.

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A Celebration of Limits: an interview with Joseph Fasano

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Overheard: “We are all God’s poems”