This poem is a poem in which I drown,

in which my lungs fill with ev’ry verb and noun

They all start as something else and end like this,

start with sweet, soft stuff and end with the abyss

like forgotten monuments or broken towns

But there’s no water here, not a drop around,

and n’ocean would do—I need waters abound

Only a pap’ry death could bring me to bliss

This poem is a poem in which I drown

This is in which I find myself unwound,

one in which the unhinged is to be found

I skipped a swim lesson they said not to miss

I was sunbathing, feeling it on my wrists

This is not a poem in which I’m down

This poem is a poem in which I drown