Melvillean Dreams, pt. 1

Discovering Ishmael

Then,
We were reading our first novel
in AP lit: Moby-Dick.
Those were the days of fitful
sleep, and being perpetually sick
of school and my home.
Wandering aimlessly
and being forced to read
about whales and oceans
and mania disconnected
from my own.

So I laid my head in my arms
as my teacher droned
on, picking my fingers
Until blood dripped down my palm.

Later,
freshly medicated, I opened
up those aged pages
and combed through words
previously read by graduates like me.
A suicidal man sailing wildly
forward on a quest for meaning,
chasing it, and reaching
out for something that washes
through his fingertips.