Touch swollen tonsils:
gill slits.
Inside eyelid: slimelight.
Cheek: shark.
Here foreknown
I’ve dived
down dawnless
microbial snows,
phosphor blue to blue-
black, to black.
I fend
fish. I find
the saffron curb
of   the sulfur vent,
veering voiceless
again into the segmented,
swaying, white,
toothed tube-
worm, Time.

More Poems by Richard Kenney