the dive

Wed Aug 1, 2012

Taut naked limbs stretched but unlike saplings,

lacking musicality - more like organic hooks.

Poised over a midnight pool,

like a frozen breath nobody took.

Should I release this tension? Or will my supine ligaments snap,

tumbling me into the tepid waters where the drowned god waits

for a voice. Is it even a choice

I wonder to write of this -

to agonize over the spring.

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