Days after

The fog parts, but you’re still foggy.
And tired. Floating on churned water
into a realm that blends sea/sky.
There are no distinct lines.

Sliced wood drifts by.
Then a drowning chest, an oar.
And behind you the entire ship
is a battled body.

You set sail years before
bound by duty. There is nothing
binding you now.

Paddle with the carapace of your lost life,
pluck the fragments bobbing
make it the tool propelling you
from this broken vessel
to the next

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