Rita

Can anyone seriously, believe this creature in a jar, rescued from the sea, like something in a frame, has a different mark, something you can't name, one that looks and seems, when distant bells afar, call up childhood dreams, maybe a different age, keeps you like a postcard makes it all feel strange, nothing fills your need, within this milky fog, even when you kick, dancing in the waves, unhearing crass remarks, stuff that's almost wreckage, all the stuff you’re not.