Richard Scott - Crocodile

I know how I will die then
in a death roll scales to my
cheek claws sunk into my pale
shoulders water burning my
throat like whiskey the
uncountable rows of yellowed
teeth ringing my scalp and
in the heat of the thrashing
river he will press his white
rawness into me like that man
who held me from behind
when I didn’t know sex and
gripped my mouth like a muzzle
and unsheathed his anger
stubble grazing my neck see
I have died already and somehow
survived hauled myself up from
the river mud to taste blue air
tho...