It’s Not All Sharks In Here
I had dreams about a giant kelp ball. No one knew what it was. It might have been seaweed or an amalgam of algae. Potentially sentient. Cuttlefish, sheepheads, anemones, urchins, and sea fans. Many-pronged stars. Eels and surf grass. Schools of fish, each a mirror. Each flicking against skin. The kelp ball was comforting in the black salt water. It was a harbinger of light and levity, an ambassador saying, “It’s not all sharks in here.” The kelp ball was a soft god to be consumed, to float around the world with no means to propel itself.