There’s a Weevil in My Left Ear and a Shark in My Right
written by: Felix Anker
Your hair peents like woodcocks out of the clouds of time,
woven spiders ascending above the Pacific.
From your eye drips the Gaussian sum,
bumblebees hum in harmony with your tears.
Your arms of alabaster, stretch across the night,
by day they burn deep within your feathers.
Your limbs – in formal terms – are colored shards,
shattered dice cast from the hands of the sea.
The shark of reason wears a wick in its ear,
dripping and dropping with wax-starved eyes,
knocking and knocking and hoping and knocking
against you, and the window of wakefulness.
But far more crucial, is just, like, well, you know,
the calcification of filler words in the ship’s hull.
As toothless waves remember, your toe cries out,
and your bewildered breath blows past the edge
of this water-soaked world.
- There’s a Weevil in My Left Ear and a Shark in My Right - March 12, 2025
