It hides from me deep below. Amidst bubbles and foam, a skull of gills and scales and spine stashes away under waves of blue. Do we share the same creases beneath our eyes, the ones that feel like gashes in the mornings? Is salt buried above its cheeks? When it swims and breathes does it choke like me, now? Like me, before? And when it cries and screams does the ocean swallow it all up, too?
