At the pool, where I pretend the peak of my belly
touches my spine
if I lay
flat on my back,
a woman swims laps, and all I can hear is the opposite
of a pattern someone who is just trying to get through the day
Between splashing cacophonies,
I still thought about the times I wanted to say something
different but sometimes I am crushed
ice that I can hold on
to with one hand before it melts,
I think we like things with which we see projections of
ourselves and wouldn’t it be
if we weren’t them
but something just close enough to the surface
of the pool
that we recognize others
My chest hurts when it’s hard to say ‘no’
With each breath growing more shallow, I thought
should she drown from exhaustion,
I was the only one there to
I imagine throwing her a string to pull her back up to the surface,
Krauss explained that in the Age of String, shy people carried a wad of it in their pockets and used a piece to guide words that otherwise might not make it to their destination.
There used to be a time when there was no moment but the one under the sun and there was no
shift in the universe
that could keep it from going
away too soon.
2 thoughts on “When my string pulls her to the surface.”
I am loving every word Lauren!! Keep them coming pretty please! This feels so luxurious.
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I love you, piss. Will do.