shark legs

i backstroke through a field of water
where above the sun is a bleeding plate.
we fled like only sea creatures can
from the threat of being conceptualized
& turned into nightmare machines.
scooped pockets dark from the deep 
& ran our hands up each others thighs.
some sharks wear skirts 
when they're on their way 
to the tooth factory. others settle for
bare smooth flesh. becoming predator 
is a process of exchanges. 
here is my face for the smell 
of blood. here are my eyes where once 
doll trees grew & spit fingers.
my father used to tell a story 
of a shark leaving the ocean
to travel up a river & into 
a tiny creek by his home. 
he was just a boy staring into clear water 
at a shark. fin jutting from surface.
the shark was probably just
hoping for a quick evolution.
aren't we all? i look at my genetics 
& ask, "how can i hollow out my bones
to fly?" the sharks keep their legs hidden
in case they need to break ground.
a cave full of blue & grey legs.
child sharks go there & gaze fearfully
at their potential. i do not have
a closet of fins but i do 
search all lakes for sharks
before dipping a leg inside.
some animals are adaptable
& i am not one of them. it took hundreds
of thousands of years & still
i fear unknowns. wake up to the sound
of sharks running--practicing 
for a soon-to-be end times.
i don't tell anyone i witness this.
like all terrors, to acknowledge it
would only give it more power.
they return to the lake by my house.
geese dissapear one by one.
my legs are searching 
for a more promising animal.
they leer at birds & salamanders.
maybe one night i'll go out
& dash with the sharks.
pretend i have a cellar of teeth.
my father peer down into the water.
the shark looks into his eyes 
& stumbles away.