Schwimmender Kopf (Swimming Head)
There are ghosts beneath these rocks
I’m turning
Surfaces I never anticipated.
On the body of a sunfish, algae
Blossoms in the place of scales.
Paint patterns pandemonium,
See how much accumulates?
Consider it a map. I label the parts:
Marbled slick, pointed cliffs,
The marsh, low-lying, where silhouettes
Branch gracefully; I note how little
Time it takes to despair.
The swell of pink spilt paint
Swallows me. It looks like this:
I am a jellyfish taken by the sea.
The spilt pink is it.
Hair trailing tentacles. I am
Spent charcoal and rust. I swim through
House paint and resin, navigating
Oil and Water. I
Buckle. I crack. I
Bleed.
Rise, phoenix; you are
The thing I find most precious—
Each of us, alone
What we are longing as one.
Look closely, an aggregate of purple-black
a blackberry makes.
Swim in my gritty sounds dirty.
It looks like this:
The blistered feet of ballerinas
a beautiful ballet make.
Submerged most of life
I am the bone of this song.
Watch, I can move in a sculling motion.
This head alone
Swallows the stuffiness,
Cracks like dry skin.
Lauren Capone
