Someone figured water
would be the the safest place
in the forest, as if funnels
were not meant for pouring, as if
adhesion mattered. They floated
on the surface and I sucked down one last
gasp of air before sinking under.
Refraction’s angle
warped the twister’s approach
my lungs pulled into
themselves.
some caffeinated days
I forget to drink water
until it is time for my pills
and I wonder
which is making me feel
(better)
Someone had the idea
water is the place to be,
fire in the forest of our instincts
scurry us creek-side.
But in the end it was the flood brought the walls
into a slow motion crush.
I felt bones crack in stages
as I was squeezed between concrete
and metal.
The last of my air pressed
so gradually from chest
I wondered how I would know
the exact time of death
it crossed so seamlessly
towards two dimensions.
But how could this body still be alive?
Teeth under cheeks, rootless
as the water leveled itself.
Of course we were all dead by then
struggling to tell
the difference.
