Wednesday, August 2, 2023

SHELTER

As a stubborn 
old mollusk 

who's been 
dredged up from 
the ocean bottom— 

whose armor is 
his only home—

who's devoid 
of all earthly ambition 
or hope, since 

he's never once 
gazed up at starlight 
or sun—

I have but one 
scummy token to give,

my only 
lasting favor:

I promise not to wonder 
how did I get here?

or spiral out the question
where will I go?

On the surface, 
everyone knows 
precious little, 

yet they go 
around pretending to assess 
and debate.

I shall maintain this 
calcified silence; 
I won't 

belabor salvation 
or hell. 

From my shell, I don't 
claim to make this 
nebulous existence 

any easier to take. 
I simply exist 

to make the sheer 
weirdness of it 

a little less hard 
to illustrate.