Viking Voyagers

Viking Voyagers

In the shower with her
I felt clipped. Vulnerable.
Like my wings were
missing, but in their place
was something like cybernetics;
when you know your heart is
pounding, but don’t know
what microscopic things are
happening to beat it as
a drum beats. Every cell
and nanomachine in lost wings
is a longship full of vikings,
each feeling the same pulse
by tempo setting figureheads.
Each cascading piece of water
is a morsel of vitality,
and like the drum, beats in
rhythm with its spray. As
my veins’ currents spray
along the hull of longships,
carefully surging once a moment
to the great drum basin.
Never to drain the drum,
but the water to drain
down the great shower basin.

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