I don’t come up for air

I’m pulled under unrestricted
by currents of uncertainty,
now a welcomed howling bed.
I am only open eyes
so clear they disappear.

I remade my body,

iterating the majestic parts –
sharp shoulders, soft neckline
mouth full of consonants and vowels.
You’ll look my direction but
I’m completely gone.
I outgrew my own goosebumps.

I planned it this way.

Treading black abysses,
the ones created by those
who won’t search close
enough to see me there –
a buoyed glowing mouth
singing my own lullabies,

They don’t want to find

anyone jumping out
of the boat not sinking.
Becoming the bottom.
My legs did not buckle.
I grew gills, adapted
and gulped the H2O air,
the grassy inhale,
an entire city of lights.
All bits of world.

Exhaled the mud —

that expectation slick.
Mountain peaks so high,
oxygen becomes ice.
I’m a different breed.
I replicated, divided, birthed.


This is my grounding.
Feet snatched into dirt,
digging in. Arms wading
ancient trees and holy water.
Concrete body still
sprouting stories I need to tell.
Passages swimming in my throat.
Scanning with laser focus
the genesis I’ll soon capture in

black ink on lit screens.

One thought on “I don’t come up for air

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: