Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-five
Summer 2014
 
SELF-PORTRAIT AS DOUBLE RED FLAG
Amorak Huey

In the last moments before drowning, the body
grows very still. You might look

at the shape of this silence in the water and think: happiness.

Think: heron or peace. You might remember your own failings:

those times you forgot the lift tickets
or could not pry straw from tree.

Isn’t there a language that has thirty-eight words for swim?
This is the cue you’ve been waiting for —

you might think of one body against another,
each jostle against the skin, each electric shock —

imagine the spasm back to life, the throb of recognition.

About Amorak Huey

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