Hands grip the life raft,
refusing to release because
to do so would be to reveal
something about the self, or
at least a universal truth that
fails to flatter desperation.

Lesser known is the fact that
life rafts are not always
wooden, rather they can be
comprised of sinew and skin
with molten hot stew boiling
in cavernous passageways.

Further still, life rafts
too have a will: To cling
back with equal desperation,
to crumble under the pressure,
planks splayed across the sea,
or to choose self preservation.

Parasitic though the ties
might be, life raft and
clinging hands demand each other,
for fear that to let go would
mean to submit oneself to the
torrential power of self-reliance.

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