WHOOSH* she goes
On the low seas, carried by the high winds.
Where
Ankles anchor, Knees tack, Back yaws, Wrists lock, and Thumb sagg.
Holding on to a harpoon in
my dingy, flopping against
Glinting, Honed, Double-Edged waves.

"Light, **!
It's the Eye of the Storm.
Fatigue steers me into its heart
My anchor prodding me,
To continue or to
*rest.