underwater, down there
our sunken, to be
blunt, unforgiven
sleep, half-awake
shrunken ship of
me & Father, we
look at each other
through the murky water,
& having said nothing
or, having nothing to say,
we pick up
rocks & begin
knocking out a code
to each other, taps,
& then we’re even
artfully forming bubbles,
indicating…alive?
Life.
Or worms, the
diet of worms…
No.
You’re mist taken.