Fishes out of water

Astronauts launching,
to atmosphere,
out of an irrational
fear of dying,
fins erect
gills drying
scales weighing the light,
fisheye lenses
seining it all inó
the leviathan clouds
swimming thin sky above,
the hard reflective surface
of water below,
and in between . . . me
teetering in my boat.
They catch me with
a rod in my hand
and a hunger in my heart,
and some words that I set afloat
just in case I need something
to hold onto.

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