I wake up, swollen like a half-drowned thing,
not quite a bloated corpse.
Lips fish-plump and waterlogged,
as if I’ve been kissed too much,
never enough.
Head sore in spots,
battered around the fisherman’s boat.
Catch of the day,
treated brutally, carelessly.
Have I been swimming in your black waters
again, all night?
2017