July 16, 2011

Under Water

With you, I feel nine years old again.

Its July in the suburbs and I've swum down
to the bottom of the pool
to lay my cheek to the scratch of the cement
and open my eyes
bloodshot, to the chlorine.

At the bottom, it is beautiful.
Unparalleled in peace and the elegance of limbs
underwater
become
unusually graceful.

Yet the pressure hurts my eardrums
and looking up I see the heat
make a bed of the water
and jump.

I want that sunlight so desperately
now that I am far from it
and as my lungs fill and overflow
the panic becomes palpable.

I slip and kick and claw at the water
and worry all the way up
that I'll never break
that barrier
to burst forth
into the heated air
to scrape my knees on the sides
climbing out of the water
into the day.

(All this to say,
I think I'm in too deep with you).