there is a race—
which of 5 will survive the swim
in black skies and heavy rains.
the favorite swimmer has died.
the top 3 swimmers have died.
I am one of the swimmers.
water surrounds the las strip of sand.
corpses of the others float past.
I survive—hung on a ladder
at the old beach playground.
floods wash in;
with each ebb come millions of crabs
pincers clacking—I’m barely out of reach.
with each ebb appear bags of money
hung from the ladder’s lower rungs.
with each ebb I crouch
grasping for bags:
was it worth it? resounding…
for Jeb Harmon.