I pray for nothing too
visible, too ugly, something
red-puckered and deep-looking.
Waiting for father sleep I was
Young-thinking of the perfect place—
Ment for a shark-bite scar
I could funeral-show—
Death, then, by a different shark,
A bigger shark, of course;
I would get back in
The water, of course I,
Bobbing head with shark
Beneath would not tremble like
I do.
Do not think
Spring Break Shark Attack,
Do not airplane burning up
In Atlantic, somewhere
On a map-picture.
Do not bite too
Soft on my girlfriend’s neck
Like she wants
The fear like,
She wants
Nothing too visible.
All the bad things
Are the things I love
About shark attacks.
by Emily Kraus
