• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 08

Transparent Dome

I am watching the wind whistle and whip
The window blinds,
While I lightly trace the tepid rain flowers,
Splashed on my transparent dome.
My fins recoil,
And crinkle and split

I can taste the saline that flows
Down the furrow on my brow
and I choke.

You tap my trap, tap tap
Tap tap,
Rattle my rib cage, my fragile bones
Then you hold me, pressing
the curl of your finger flat, onto my window –
Evidence should I wish to report you.