Virginia or Ophelia, they’re all the same
the rocks aren’t
so heavy when
the water is deep
and breath, like glass
sharp and broken rasps
dampened
suspended, for a moment
across an aqueous
eternity
and skin, soaking
like a thirsty sponge
until the rocks are
heavy, or maybe weightless
suspended, for a moment
swimming in mortality
the dream begins to drain
and lungs, now rigid
placid, sterile facets
and skin, steeped
in brine like kelp
swollen
the rocks aren’t so heavy
when you’ve fallen asleep
-karli (with the help of Betsy =])
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