Doesn’t run.
Doesn’t even curse.
Just sits there as the tide
Comes surging forward
And the clouds tumble
Over one another in the sky.
Doesn’t run.
Doesn’t even curse.
Just pulls out the tile
In her pocket as dull black
Water sizzles and froths
In a torrent all around her.
No, she
Doesn’t run.
Doesn’t even curse.
Just stares at the engraved
N and the sub 1
On the game-piece’s face
While the water drags her in.
Even when she loses her footing, she
Doesn’t run.
Doesn’t even curse.
Just clasps her hand
Into a tight fist before
The icy water
Swallows her whole
And thinks:
Where are you now,
Ocean Eyes?
Where are you now,
When I really am drowning,
And not just in every word you say,
Not just in every thing you do?
The force of the tide
Is not very strong,
Yet she does not fight it.
She is limp,
Now part of the water
Just as she was once part of him.
Where are you now,
Ocean Eyes?
Where are you now,
When everything is just too hard,
When I really do need
To disappear inside something bigger than me?
Seagulls scream overhead.
The sky is a black oil rag,
The lake a dark,
Rippling curtain,
The wind a shrill lamentation,
The girl a hollow husk.
After a time and with crunching,
Crushing force.
Her ragdoll body collides with a rock.
But she doesn’t move.
Doesn’t grab hold.
Doesn’t climb on.
No, she
Doesn’t run,
Doesn’t even curse.
She floats facedown,
Almost as if to look
after the tile
that falls from her hand.