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