If I Follow You Into The Water Will My Lungs Collapse?
Breath as memory, and the body as its own storyteller.
Stoic in desire, steadfast in adulation
her blue chiffon dress laced through line and thread
a calming air breaks the bread of our acrimony.
She is surefire and sound, I am wildfire.
I follow her into the hotel swimming pool
my hands splitting crystalline water,
sending small, marvelling droplets
into the effervescent sky onto skeleton-white
towels who patiently witness this crescendo.
I dive deeper, gasping as chlorine fills my nostrils,
comforted by the lack of undertow,
no force dragging me into memory
just the silent abyss of the inside out.
I dart to the far end, touch the wall,
turn back and feel the familiar tug in my lungs,
the reminder of childhood asthma
still dictating the distances
I can travel in a single breath.
Lovely, crisp, specific imagery throughout & the last stanza shows true poetic quality: 1.) The decision to use the pool as a portal to traverse the speaker to childhood and admit his/her past physical frailties as a response to present emotional trials is a brilliant one.
2.) Resisting the urge to solve or resolve the tension you worked so hard to build with a neat ribbon as a final line made all the earned emotion in the early stanzas worth it.
As clear a picture of the anxieties of childhood as I’ve read in a long while. Well done.
“Breaking the bread of our acrimony” is a damn good line.