Quiet now,

for its hard to keep drowning

when you keep pulling me back

up and making me

gasp,

splut

ter and whee

ze for air,

to let the extra weight of water

cough through my teeth and spray into the void

to which I escape.

 

Quiet now,

lay back in the blistering sun

and let the seagulls perch on the stern,

puff in the heat, pant with overwhelming exhaustion

and save the strength

for as I falter, so too do you,

so too do

you, and you bake and sweat

and the seagulls look down

at your eyes, pick out the choicest pieces of flesh

in which to tear and slash

apart

I drown,

no longer holding my breath

in quiet seas,

with only dark grey sharks

for company.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015