The river’s still up in the park,
and brown, drowning the swingset,
eddying around the bottom of the slide,
like a trapdoor out of childhood.
I never needed one. I used to dream
of the waters sweeping over my head
and now I remember the way blood looked
circling the drain, fainter and fainter
pink and then gone, lost forever.
I wonder how it would have felt,
to never know the deeper pools,
to never be dragged down into the darkness
that lies beneath the surface,
the unending roiling of the sea inside.
I bite my tongue, turn the saliva red,
so that even my mouth is full of dark water,
and I keep the words to myself,
trapped behind the blades of my teeth,
locked in the viscous fluid behind my eyes.

05/15/2011

Author's Note: There's been a lot of flooding, here. We drove past the park next to the river, today, and it was full of water, a little lake under the swings. Etc. When I was a child, I had a recurring nightmare about drowning. There were a few times, when I cut myself, I'd do it in the bathtub, and let the water turn colors from the blood. Or I'd bleed into the sink, then wash the blood down the drain.

Posted on 05/15/2011
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