Gasp

I almost drowned in childhood—didn’t,

Coughed up lake water and kept living—I 

Seek to reproduce those circumstances—

The lack of air, urgency, immersion—

As I flit between day and task and day—

The dry rituals of writing, fucking—

Appetite makes me helpless—I just want 

To be out or inside again for a

Moment that terror so crisp and present

I fall to my underwater-knees—Gasp—

Lord, if you let me return, whatever

Time you give me, I’ll do the useless work—

Then I’m back ashore again, sputtering,

Wet, like an idiot, trying to speak—