Identity no more
Maybe I’m a Maybe,
attached because I was naughty,
attached to the ground because being nasty
but not attached anymore, after becoming a crazy word,
after smelling like hemp ropes.
Maybe I’m a plastic,
red plastic seastar,
waiting for four years in the bottom of the sea.
Feeding fishes, and sad, very sad about
that kid who forgot me
in the ground,
in the darkness,
in the ground
of a deep cold blue sea.