Floral Organs

One, two, three, four

Red tide skyline, every whale in the sea

Washes up to my feet fully flensed and barely breathing

And barely breathing

I am the whaler

I've outgrown these innards

I am the whaler

Cleaning guts from gutters

I am the whaler

Our vertebrae's tethered

I am the whaler

Look, here come the buzzards

Climbing trees older than anyone alive

We braid our intestines together

Spitting teeth into each other's mouths

Back and forth until we make a smile

Until we make a smile