WATER TOUR

 

detritus of orchid or sea urchin or slug

that water fantasy 

don’t you want to swim, I say

do you have something against joy, I say

 

just because it’s wonderful for you

don’t assume it’s the same for me, 

the damp 

 

to be part of the sea, flecks of sunlit

organism in the pond, that scoop

is living like nothing else

 

but he is high on the intelligence

& therefore on the sensitive scale,

cannot stand to be breached

 

up to where you can breathe again

but in body temperature water 

somehow I have gills, black mud

 

like how when turned upside down 

in an avalanche one must spit

& watch which way it flows

 

he builds a compass from rope

& stakes to map a pleasing curve

for the walk up to the stairs

 

I run my fingers like a rake through grass,

through fur, pick leeches & crabs

who cling & curl until buried in salt or sand

 

he lets go, I let go anyways

but I would spend my last dollar 

to be allowed to live hour after hour

inside that perfect water

that spring