Literary Vegan

I swim above my phantom in salt water, but I'm the weightless one and above me, doves and dragonflies hum blue choosing the direction of life with their wings. I know things — no more suspended place  meet me at the rustling leaves with all the movement  of forwards and lightness of answer.

Anxiety settles, like silt, back underneath my skeleton  retreating from the sphinx on my sternum. Where in the forests and farms did you learn that, predator?

Seaweed and salt, rotting skin, stone petrichor — all is open, worn sand on the wind met with fire, sharp magic  missing muscle.   Coastal bones fly wildflower low, feathers are lost but the sea keeps teal and lightening  for whoever roams red among the coves. 

The pensham bell flower, white-tubed, heartbeats blue from the fairy lights; pendulum drunk on the closer stars.

The crow's call disintegrates the distant radio. All creatures look up — a beaked shadow over the bees sucking on their suns. 

It was like finding a ladybird in a cave; red dome waterfall, black gothic lace,  we traced flashlight shadows fashioned into stone, spread ruby beetle tulle around our legs.