i walk into the lake and die there
the search team drags nothing
but water to the shore
i was just a kid after all
and my blood hadn’t learned
to boil over it yet
a fish belly of a body
roams the neighborhoods
like a nightmare
and drools over living rooms
floating past the quiet houses
with scratches on the door
past the translating children
and their milky eyed mothers
if there’s an ending
from which you emerge
and stop begging
i picked the wrong one again
all my white knuckled prayers
all the times they couldn’t find me
curled up with soft spongy wrists
i agree with all of them
Photo by Samuel Ferrara on Unsplash
