waiting for the snails to crawl up my leg
silver stripe my shins
I have to wait for them – they are keeping track
their slow ascent sticks and residues
pinching at my thigh each centimeter

waiting for the barnacles to attach themselves
to the undersides of my arms
seemingly sucking for something
counting themselves in unison

waiting for the leeches to sink their soft teeth
into my sandpaper neck
measuring each gulp with their imaginary limbs
exploring mine

waiting for my hair to grow
to skid out of the colander like dough
to escape desperately from nowhere –
only to go nowhere

until I can crawl on my shins over rocks
attached to the bluff, pushing with my arms
to gulp in sand and salt air
until I can grow on the baked earth - somewhere
2008