I had been sick with a cough for a week
before it happened.
Sea water rose in my throat and coated the inside of my nose with the smell of salt
and decay
issuing forth from me, pouring out, black and green and stinging my eyes with its force leaving
me to gasp
and gasp
and gasp to catch the tattered edge of my breath
I knew that I was in the eye of the storm when the water stopped
And I could feel it in the back of my throat
Hard and soft, like an oyster
I coughed and spluttered—the delivery was easier than I had thought it would be—and when it
was done,
I looked down on my heart
Which had begun to totter on little colt-legs
