part of me was coiled into a bottle
and sent adrift in the pacific
for the reeds to pull back down
and tuck into the seabed

i worry the water’s gotten in
maybe the fish have too
and my words are grinding
between their little salted teeth

part of me was tapped in morse code
across the old string telephone
you left hanging from the smallest
window of your childhood home

i worry the line’s been cut
nibbled on by a naughty mouse
and my words are getting lost
along that fraying 2-dollar twine

part of me was pinned to the breast
of a clumsy carrier pigeon
you hear of the plane that went
down over the north atlantic?

i worry it was him who hit the front
left motor of that big metal bird
and my words are falling 40,000 feet
all sliced bloody and feathered