Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-seven
Spring 2015
Rae Hoffman

Bamboo, rhododendron, pine, something
has to line the water, something has
to keep us out.
It’s not enough to just say daughter,

Sinking is too easy, my father says.
and when he’s not looking,
I break the lacustrine twigs
and immerse myself
like I saw once in a movie

Water pulls my body
in every direction—
stirs up the black grit from under.
Light suspends its swimming.
No one is there
to save me. No one can be saved,
I think.

the harder I kick, the farther
I become submerged,
the less the water seems like a mirror
on the park’s green cheek,
and the more it resembles an oak armoire
consuming the room around it.

About Rae Hoffman

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