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October 27, 2010 - 9:56 p.m.

I am so rich that I must give myself away. (Egon Schiele)

And I feel that
swimming endlessly,
directionless
changing with the shimmer of other objects of the water
glinting
distracting
and catching
my eyes
wander
aimless
and I am searching for breath
beneath this surface
trying to learn
to breath without gills
under water
under this calm exterior
I feel like I am losing myself,
like a weight dropped and sinking
towards the bottom
fingers catching bubbles and air
but not me

I drowned myself in you
looking for a life boat in you
riding the tide and failing to see rock

I am a fish
out of water,
wet but not swimming
in my unnatural state
gasping
I let my fingers wind around the words that will pull me out
sending out slapping sounds along the water
hoping for some echo of return
I cannot be angry,
I beckoned you here
with my siren song,
hair tossed and tangled,
thrown casually over my shoulder
to reveal my pulse
we bled together there,
hot where the bodies intersect
intersected
sinking
shivering with nervous
ness

locked into these thoughts
I am reeling
myself back in.

You are oceans away
and you are the reckless sailor, who knew how to want
these eyes, misted and searching for shore,
out of this element,
I rose
to the occasion
but cannot walk on legs untrained.

I stumble
stumble
stumble

I will not
let
myself fall.

Caught,
my own keeper,
like spiders, exempt and immune to their own web.

I thought I knew this game,
thought it was simply
a teasing
toe-calf-knee,
submerged in water
without the risk of drowning
in three inches,
three days

and now two weeks, almost
I will remember
but I have, by caring
recast the lure
and come up empty

fish and fisherman confounded.
feeling hungry
but unable to eat
I will train these legs
again

and keep

my lips
a hushed whisper,
learned and practiced

of games and songs of the sea
carried out, but never away,
the undertow is me

 

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