The image was hung on the wall
   in an otherwise clean and well-
   managed business hotel.

I can't really say that I'd ever had
   that particular nightmare before
   I checked into the room,
 But I know I've had it many times 
    since. 

Set atop a post on a brutal white
    sand beach in a stifling burlap
    onesie -- a onesie that one
    would have to have been sewn into, 
    for it had no zippers, buckles,
    buttons, or Velcro.

What was the nightmare?
   To be seen, while not seeing?
   Suffocating slowly -- held under
      the high tide with waterlogged
      cloth clinging to my face?
   Arms pinioned as the seabirds
      went to work on tearing through 
      cloth and skin in as few
      vicious pecks as possible --
         pristine white growing 
         blood crimson stains,
         running down the pole,
         dripping onto the sand.
   All of the above? 

I never have a good memory of it.
   That's why I'm not sure that I
      didn't have the nightmare
      even before I ever saw that
      poster on the wall of an
      ordinary hotel -- far, far 
      from home.