After the secession of my wisdom teeth, I awake reborn as a lopsided pufferfish. My tiny mouth
is drowning in the oceanic expanse of my face, left cheek drooping past a gibbous chin. I laugh
in the mirror, bubbles rising. When I speak, the gills at the base of my jawline flap. I drift from
one side of the hallway to the other, a great, fat fish bouncing amongst the corals as the gentle
current guides my path. I am magnificently round. I slurp saltwater three times daily, resting atop
a seagrass bed, spines erupting from my bloated face. In my dreams, pearlescent coral gametes
float toward the swollen moon, blinking like fireflies in the watery dark.