Anaerobe

Touch swollen tonsils: gill slits. Inside eyelid: slimelight. Cheek: shark. Here foreknown I’ve dived down dawnless microbial snows, phosphor blue to blue- black, to black. I fend fish. I find the saffron curb of   the sulfur vent, veering voiceless again into the segmented, swaying, white, toothed tube- worm, Time.