My brook has grown into an ocean. Pearl-spot fish have disappeared. Instead, sharks skulk around. They see my pocket, not my heart. They’re democratically undemocratic. Poetry is inedible. Profit is the sole default in their thought-mechanism. Shark morphing petrifies me. I wake up from the dreamy life, losing my serenity in their serrated presence. I turn a tiny sardine, ready to be swallowed. First published in The Literary Hatchet.