Fish Boy

It ran through
his veins.
Thin and blue,
flutter-pulse 
of nerves.


Blood salty
and free,
clear and 
cool. 
And the sea ran through
him.


Belonging to 
the sea, the water
forever lapping over his 
cerebrum- he is 
a thousand gold fishes,
shiny coins 
in the fountain.


Birthed in a mat
of seaweed he makes
return. 
A pilgrimage
to an origin.
A return
of the prodigal son.


Clear under his skin
runs his father,
mother. All eternity
resides in the pale
boy with fish eyes
and a soft cough.


He is born from the 
deep, dropped onto 
the shore.