When he speaks he hears his voice
distorted, shrill – faraway
When he moves
he meets resistance; his progress is stifled
confused, he can’t feel –
no feet, no ground
like living underwater
this stark, still environment tints his vision
chill green
strident luminosity but
he’ll adjust. He’ll grow
clear hard scales, his blood
will run cold – transform to
survive. He’ll learn;
a dampened organism, tongues
insinuate, forever
in motion. He’ll see
through shell-pale eyes now
salt won’t sting