holy bacchant (raghnaid) wrote in pomtree,
holy bacchant

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Drowning, v.2

Here's the newest, even more unfinished version of my previous poem. Again, comments absolutely welcome.


I am not drowning.
But what am I seeking if not
thread to wrap my fingers in?
Endless weaving from the wheel,
pooling incarnadine
above me - above me, and
I am not drowning.
Your hand may break the surface,
slip against the ragged edge of
this indistinct mask that cannot conceal,
but I am not drowning.
And you may wrench fistfuls
of taut strands that are
the instrument of my regard,
but I am not drowning.
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