Sunday Float

Hungry for this seal at the ears,

I roll in the pool.

 

It’s long since I shut you out,

tipped my face to the sky

and swooned.  I hear

 

the dry spheres of my breath.  Only,

 

under me: the avalanche aisles

sweep; and the graze of the whale,

less ethereal in the flesh of open sea,

 

terrifies – sepulchral, and metal-grey.

I remember now, it broke skin

to the left of me – I wasn’t afraid

 

but that was a dream; the symbol:

life, conquered there

at the strange pier;

 

and me in the water – bleak as it was –

without blood.

 

February 5th, 2018