Experiment

(This is an edit of my earlier "fish poem")

I see myself encapsulated

unlikely fish in a tank of tangled water

the main attraction of a maniac engineer

hanging me suspended

in the liquids of the brain and of the heart

...not sure whose...

caught in the cords of coughing

I was never meant to breathe water

so I appear unlike myself

to those who notice me within the 

wearying and the weakening of this 

open window womb

and stop to see how my body's changing

shape and consistency,

softened by the wet world where I woke up

and only knew your name

and could only see you in the lines of my palms

and I won't fight to leave

for I've never felt so light

buoyed upwards by the water

and the psychedelic nausea of your scent, 

infusing the liquor of the lyre’s cage 

and leaving me so tired, in need 

of rest from spinning, too much 

for the limbs of the lake

and I will speak only words rounded by

exhaustion and metamorphosis, 

skin turned fluid by strange science

and while I'm shifting drunk all new

I'll thank the giggling god

rocking back at the controls

and taking note of every

difference the waters make

and knowing that when I leave

I'll never walk again,

my legs made worthless by the waters,

the thick and gorgeous waters