Green threads black
dark fins flail
tangled bark

of us, seals
serpentining
through the sea-ivy lightly

of slight moon waning—
waxing?—
catching—reflected

in barbed-wire thistles
jutting out from
feces-flecked eyes.

The glistened dome,
the fresh pearl,
blackened by intrusions,

as the cankers of the mollusk
look like shark teeth
to a shadow’s mark.

Dense sand sheets
obscures
the sonar’s plea

for the bottlenose
to sleep
on the bed of dunes—

harpooned,
by the silver light
and evolving red hue.

The exhalation of night
suffocates the gills
with skin-stitches.

Clear bubbles exploding into air, breath.