adrift in the red sea,
eyes wide and unblinking,
stinging from the salt.
A tiny black form in fluid expanse,
limbs thrashing against intangible bonds,
drawn toward the murky depths.
Each life preserver beyond reach,
bobbing and resurfacing –
a fully exposed O
close enough to taste;
a half-submerged C
another too-distant morsel of salvation.
No rescues are planned
as gods and giants watch from above,
his every move slowed by the liquid landscape,
his every hope lost over the horizon.
“Waiter. what is this fly doing in my