A very mystical entry from a modern day Itchy Ankle resident who may have accidentally eaten an ancient hallucenogenic–hard to say.
Tucked away in a circle in my little boat, I had a dream:
Somwhere in the times to come someone called my place
What is an itch? but a way of life.
I, for myself, am a fisherman’s wife.
My ankles cobbled in deep oyster shells, crab, rock, and such.
I watch blue heron, geese, geen duck and question this thing
that other’s call ‘luck’.
Gulls, clear water ebbs and tides that guide my way.
Berries, bogs, marshes and such
A swamp with hibiscus
so close to my touch.
I am dreaming and wondering, would I be me…or you be you..
If we each of us this dream could eschew?
I’m back to sleep as I ought to be. Are you you? Am I me?
Who is it you are buying to be?
Your entry for the First Annual Itchy Ankle Writing Contest is still welcome. Check out the rules here.