Floral Organs

One, two, three, four Red tide skyline, every whale in the sea Washes up to my feet fully flensed and barely breathing And barely breathing I am the whaler I've outgrown these innards I am the whaler Cleaning guts from gutters I am the whaler Our vertebrae's tethered I am the whaler Look, here come the buzzards Climbing trees older than anyone alive We braid our intestines together Spitting teeth into each other's mouths Back and forth until we make a smile Until we make a smile