It's the deep edge
the brink that resounds.
I'm interested in jumping out of my skin into it
- recording where air ends and water begins -
composing a ledger of edges.
Out that hole
into the snow
past the ice to summer
the water cuts black to green.
Go ahead and fall into it.
Autumn catches your breath and refuses your surrender.
Yet you're wet.
Write it down - "I didn't drown."
the brink that resounds.
I'm interested in jumping out of my skin into it
- recording where air ends and water begins -
composing a ledger of edges.
Out that hole
into the snow
past the ice to summer
the water cuts black to green.
Go ahead and fall into it.
Autumn catches your breath and refuses your surrender.
Yet you're wet.
Write it down - "I didn't drown."
