They heave me into the boat,
my shell and legs encumbered
with barnacles.

I hear the scraping of their knives,
their eager voices, the sound of
writhing disease hitting the floor.

I have been sick with attachments.
My saviors delight in freeing me
as equally as they will delight
in their after-beer of celebration.

I am relieved to lose these barnacles,
but there is a disease that feels
much deeper—

there is a disease that will slip back
into the cool water with me
when they let me go.

                I love working with animal spirit guides. The first time I recall animals trying to deliver a message to me I was 18 and my Papaw (aka grandfather) was going back and forth between nursing homes and hospital stays. He was 83 years old, had dementia, and his body was failing him. As I was driving down the road one day, I passed five different animals, all of which were black in color. I cannot recall now, at almost 40 years old, specifically which animals. Most likely a cow, ...