(no subject)
Broke the Dream of Surface
..
i
broke the dream of surface-
and gasped for air-
i fell
awake-
and realized i was dying
when eyes no longer served as
metaphor
--Rick J
Age six, still piscean,
water-coaxed and pixie-led,
bored on blue-tiled land,
inhaling chlorine and faith,
I first dangled
toes in deep:
what waited:
luminous
lukewarm
transparent sky.
Why resist?
I let go,
slipped beneath, fell
foot-first
past warning, applause.
So easy, that immense seduction,
my blue-tiled solid landing.
I could see, but no voice
buoyed daytime night.
Did I hold my breath?
The forbidden, heaven,
waited at my feet, and
god was not above, but beneath.
When rescue arrived,
navy trunks and outstretched arms,
I choked. The spell broke.
These days, I know how:
cautious surrenders,
my dead-man-floats.
I'll close my eyes, mid-dive.
I'll propel past unnecessary skies.
It doesn't matter. I am still there,
nine feet above no control,
and now, treading water,
make-believing roots,
I dream of dissolve, not flight.
By Melissa Sillitoe
December 2008 / Portland, OR