I Wasn’t Me

I was trapped in the body of

a fisherman. I had no agency,

a non-consenting passenger.

On a colossal ship, marked by

a thick red stripe that wrapped

around the hull.

Against the gunwale, I tended

my line. A fierce hooked thing.

It caught something big. There

was a chase. The crew was

fervent, as was I,

but I wasn’t me.

The catch tired out. Calmly,

I peered into the water below,

a thick and dark sludge,

unable to lay eyes on what

I’d done. A metal arm whined

as it pulled up a beluga whale.

I walked over to the creature,

suspended over the deck. Lines

of deep red oozed down its

pale body. One of the whale’s

eyes stared at me as I stood by;

iris like a human’s.

The whale said to me, I think

I have to die now. Then I put

my hand on its head. Then,

the real me, the one trapped

in the fisherman’s body,

started sobbing.