My mother's mother drowned in her own blood,
her lungs filled with the spill of her heart.
The dam broke in advance of the guilt
that swam in shadows beneath the waves.
It could have stayed down there forever,
never needing to surface, never wanting air.
It didn't breathe the way people do,
open mouths trembling, afraid to let the soul out.
Once, I filled the tub with blood,
but I couldn't convince it to take me,
and I didn't learn anything,
not even what you have to do
to be able to swim inside yourself,
away from the light that shines in through your eyes
and down into the quiet of the deep.

07/29/2010

Posted on 07/29/2010
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair