Hovering above
the wheedle brown—
gaunt mud
sucking, hissing dryly
thinking I saw animals in there—
putting something
haughty in the way I held my
bones—to signal
I am human—stay away
the mud full of me—
slow—deliberate sloth
resuming and then
breaking off
not suddenly but with
the purpose
of a stomach being sucked in
hard
the crepuscular
instant when the eyes
go under
then the face
pointed outward like ears
but the ears choked
with brine