Observations on a Drowning
by Joseph Robert
It does not matter that she soils herself,
if she offers at once both hands
to the mud, or only
one foot at a time.
“I don’t care, it’s ok”.
He sees her ankles submerge,
feet continue to move
crossing fingers and toes,
He watches her
suffocate. The filth does not concern her
She does not seem to mind.
Dirty, dirtier. He can no longer,
It amazes him that,
in just that little bit of water
mouth, hands and eyes still move.
She vomits the necessary thing.
The panic-the vomit,
She does not matter to him
“Won’t you miss me?”
Her soul scatters across the pool.
“If I could only be who you want”.