p
o
e
m
s

piercing water with a breath

poised beneath three hundred silver bubbles

wavering

and separating into thousands of aerated marbles

upwards

sailing past the cold surface

to feed the greening leaves

 

Pandora’s diving,

the aqualung her box,

unavoidably opened

to let the world’s uneasiness pass cooly

into her swelling lungs–

 

she feels a certain lightness

at one hundred feet

no doubt her smiles wrapping

silver

cellophane around her booted toes.

decompressing on the rise,

lifting her head in a rush of

humming blue bubbles–

 

and

 

as if from the changing fish’s belly

she emerges,

her frothy wings spread on the rocky shore

rising from

voiceless

thermoclines.

hot pants

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