|Arsenic Lobster poetry journal||
|SELF-PORTRAIT AS DOUBLE RED FLAG
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