I am the voice that crept up the water.
Sleeping, not sinking. My arm hair
stood straighter, not softening in the lake.

Wake up. Open eyes. Gasp for air.
Dark black cool everywhere I looked.
No one tells you that drowning
isn't dying.

their voices pelted spit wads.
their fear launched missiles.
their apathy sank a princess.
I watched with my screaming eyes.

When I sank I surrendered;
shiftless, restful, still.
But I did not die.

Death is the worn wet whisper.
Death comes to those who wait.
Death embraces cell fish.

And I would know.
They swim all around me.
On the land, never the water.

To them the depths of this lake
ensured my silence.
Then I woke and saw nothing,
felt nothing, knew nothing,
except for the last breath that moved seagulls
and drew mermaids near.