THERE WAS LIGHT

 and the first breath reared its head into my chest

the way oxygen singed my lungs-

caressed every alveoli with its teeth-hands,

its tongue-heart licked incinerations so fervent, the sea could not tame.

the first time i sneezed,

an inferno bloomed.

i thought i tasted

soot.

the first step i took,

plucked the cords to feel the

tension in my sinews, in my limbs.

feet smothering my secrets into the sand,

the grains ingesting my laughless laughter,

will subsume with salt.

the colour of  veins when i bend my feet to face the light

makes me certain:

there are rivers running

through me.

the first dawn

was honey and light pinned to a tree.

i learnt that rays refract underwater,

that secondhand warmth

only provides so much heat

and that the sun is now my lighthouse.

sometimes i sleep in the ceramic bed,

slide into the silky cerulean pool.

i haven’t forgotten how to talk fish,

i still find traces of salt on my pillow.

my tongue is heavy, sated with saline.

most days i half expect to find brine between my teeth.