Fish Boy

April 30, 2012
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It ran through
his veins.
Thin and blue,
of nerves.

Blood salty
and free,
clear and
And the sea ran through

Belonging to
the sea, the water
forever lapping over his
cerebrum- he is
a thousand gold fishes,
shiny coins
in the fountain.

Birthed in a mat
of seaweed he makes
A pilgrimage
to an origin.
A return
of the prodigal son.

Clear under his skin
runs his father,
mother. All eternity
resides in the pale
boy with fish eyes
and a soft cough.

He is born from the
deep, dropped onto
the shore.

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