After getting off the phone with you at night
I’m reminded of when we were kids
using walkie talkies to communicate
we were supposed to be sleeping
but we stayed up watching Adult Swim
sharing our jokes and observations
until one of us would invariably fall asleep
and then the other.

Even though the calls are less frequent
I’m still interested in your favorite shows
What are your favorite scenes?
Who are your favorite characters?
Is Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood still cherished?
Sometimes I forget you’re just down the hall
and get so engrossed in my own experience
that asking about yours slips my mind.

So feel free to ask me if I’m still awake
and I’ll check in between episodes
because I’m afraid one of us might fall asleep
and the calls will stop coming entirely.

Treble hook,
Trap my mouth,
Take me out of air.
Discard what you don’t like
There’s truly none to share

“Throw her into the deep end,”
they said.
“She’ll learn to swim soon enough.”

Maybe she will,
but you know,
it won’t be easy
the tides will grasp her firm
and try to drag her under
her lungs will scream
she may wail
and desperately thrash
the tumultuous current will beat her down
her arms ache, so does her heart
she’ll sink once or twice,
wonder whether it’s worth the fight,
but with time
and I can’t say how much
she will gain strength
and slowly but surely
she will begin to swim against the current
claw her way back
to the shallow end
and she’ll be able
to look them all in the eye
scars bare, clothes torn
but a wicked smile.

My waters you wade,
Learning to swim before you even walk.
Protected by my sons,
Castor & Pollux.
Similarly, provided for & cared for.

I swim with fate
Across my sea of stars.
In it I’m never late,
For the sea is only mine.

I gave my stars
To the empty seas
And I never fear
For my sea is only mine and mine.

And when my sea
Was stripped of its stars,
The light went out not once,
For my fate still swims with me.

Itself made evident
By the very discourse & action
In which sees your engagement.
Others around you protest,
But they are written off
Just as wrong, as haters.

There is nothing
So much as struck lightning
Or the entirety of the Earth shaking
Which could wake you from your rest,
Unpeel your eyes, of
The curtains drawn by slumber.

Whatever such natural event;
The magma already cooled,
The fault line already cracked,
The water has already receded.

It already happened.

You went exploring down a river
And ended up stuck on an island,
The boat's left adrift
And you can't remember how to swim.

Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you been?

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I was weighed down pound by pound
and things were looking grim.
My arms flailing; began to tire
and my mouth was tasting salt,
just days ago I warmed myself by fire
and by lying on the asphalt.

Shadow stalks and kicking rocks;
irrelevant if your shoes are tied.
Checking locks and kicking rocks
get carried away by the tide.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I could view the sandy ground,
though the image was quite dim.
My head; just barely above the water
and desperately I was gasping for air,
and I could swear it was getting hotter
but the temperature was actually fair.

I’ve got currents and tides
within my mind.
And when I finally rip out my insides;
more water and waves you’ll find.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
While being tossed and pushed around
I discovered I had every limb.
I could see a shoreline in the distance
it’s beaches with perfect white sand.
It seemed within an instance
I started treading steadily with each hand.

the overwhelming chlorine enfolds itself unto my skin,
the fluorescent lights paste themselves to the back of my eyelids,
the cold salt-less waves lap against the harsh brown concrete,
over and over and over again.
every monday.
every thursday.

it's one thing to be plunging in the water,
shuddering and choking on that awful taste,
falling behind since elementary because--
no matter how hard you kick or how intently you listen,
you're the slowest one there--
and--
you. can't. get. better.
that's all fine.

it's another to stand on the deck,
awkwardly shift your body to look smaller, fold inwards,
smooth out your eyebrows until a few fleck into your fingers,
dig your nails into your arms (but, careful! don't be obvious about it),
try to smile and--

every monday.
every thursday.
i go back to that awful awful pool deck
that reeks of chemicals and humiliation
that always makes me retreat into my cells

and

every monday.
every thursday.
i reconsider the possibility of
drowning myself,
in the pool.