When Americans die
they float on for years
in plastic bottles
far out at sea.
The bottles decay
the souls are released
eaten by albatross
strangling their young.
I found one myself
cloudy but whole
half sunken there
and poured out its ghost.
It offered one wish
I asked for reprieve
It laughed from its guts
and dove out of sight.
As I always say unbearably multitalented!
Claudia
What a kind thing to say!
The one redeeming thing about my inability to suppress my childish creativity is that I keep meeting so many lovely people with the same problem! Solidarity! ::crayon power salute::
Nice, Fritz!