Up and over. We go through the waving undertow. I will float until I learn how to swim. Inside my mother in a garbage bin. Until I find myself again. Again. Up and over. We go mouths open wide and spilling snow. I will spit until I learn how to speak. Up through the doorway as the sideboards creak. With them ever proclaiming me. Me. Up and over. Eyes open wide into down below. I will shout until they know what I mean. I mean the marriage of a dead dog sing. And a synthetic flying machine. Machine. Ok