The autopsy turvy

That sinking feeling
sixty fathoms down below
under the ocean where
sleeping giants go.

done it,
woke up on a sea bed
with my eyes popping out
of my head,
swallowed salt with Davy
cried
save me when only the dead
could hear me,
and no one near to see a
drowning man.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.