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After a Swim

After a Swim

There comes a time in the affairs of man

when he must take the bull by the tail

and face the situation.

WC Fields

 

Inside the shark’s belly,

it’s really a bit too late

to worry much whether

I locked my front door

before going swimming.

 

I’m sure I’m marked as

missing now, but despite

my having gotten chopped

into many different parts

before getting swallowed

live, I still have all my keys

rattling in my swimsuit

in case the shark finds

I’m not eatable after

all and spits me out.

 

Reaching for my key now,

I’m swimming to my door,

but where on earth 

did my right hand go?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published in The Dryland Fish, 2003