Surfacing
December eats whatever fat
the wind carries with it.
You imagine the windows, the drapes,
all rounded and curved,
no sharp corners in this ocean of you.
Short-lived circulating thoughts
glimmer and fade,
minnows darting from nowhere
to nowhere.
Your body-heat, fish-tails over
dark waves.
The cold is still too deep,
a dim dawning shore
still too far above you,
and so, you rise slowly
in the hollow shell
of a diving bell
you have yet to call your own.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
