Madame Sailor
On this Odinday
My mind a frog squirming in a dune
You may flay me
And stretch my skin over the mast
To find the wind to find the next shore
Please slice gills into my temples
The salt breeze fills my skull and
Affix a xylophone to my wrist
Dead knuckle tunes to play
As we rise and fall in the waves.
