Sea Pigs

by Sam M. Phillips

Swallowed,

Too low in the water,

Sea pigs in a bony shell,

Beat the waves,

A fright,

Inclined on a tilting plane.

Disappear beyond the horizon,

Leave me here, deserted,

A wooden island,

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Temperature too low to register,

A curious state,

Isolated,

All around me,

The sea shines like glass.

Float idly in mist,

A shoal of molluscs taps against the hull,

There is no other sound,

And, for now,

No other life,

Just me and the molluscs in the mist.

The ocean is deserted,

The sun burns the fog to reveal nothing,

An open plain,

Wet and flat,

I would jump in,

But that is death.

Thick and wrinkled,

A fat, round blob,

Yellow with a tint of red,

The Sun at high noon,

I will never see another.