For those seeking my body as Passage:

I am sorry.
I am not a proper vessel,
I sometimes allow the swells to toss me
to and fro
just to let my barnacles breathe
a little bit

I’m sorry
but I do not turn
when you twist your engines into me
I am sorry
that the smoke you planted,
hot & coalful in my belly
is now a rising stink
emptied of results intended.

I am sorry
but your cargo doesn’t fit
& we are taking a detour,
so I can deepen my bonds with the whales
& sirens.

I am sorry
but I will not tell them to soften their voices.
That uncontrol you think you are feeling,
that magic they sang into your skin,
only unhinges the clasp
on your own
unpracticed accountability.

Some might say its your own fault
that your ears were just
unprepared
for their moonsong
but not me.
I know how truly innocent you are;
how the shift from silence to siren can feel so sudden & small.

I feel your fear.

& I am sorry
that the whales will devour you
& your raw untightened eardrums.

I am sorry I put the force
of you in danger
but this is what you face
when you board me
with your brawn
all hung out and blazing.