With my head all the way under I can hear it
The drain from the overflow
My lengthy breaths like brush strokes
The tinny crack of a joint in the vacuum, in the lone lake of one
The closest I’ll ever be to a sea monster
Not in a legend way, but in the way I’ll never be as still
I’ll bring my hand up and over, ride with the mist up out of the four rounded walls
The archipelagos of my body are many. They don’t all fit beneath the surface
I wonder if islands feel fractured, vulnerable and sparse
Or if they feel fortunate to be earth and sea
The water always tinges green, from my hair, no matter how many washes I’ve done
Like the way a green glass wave might be harnessing the sky
All I’m missing are rocks to tumble and coast to encroach on
Then I might feel what it means to watch something soften
Then maybe I’d know what it means to watch something roll under me so easily I don’t even notice as it leaves.