Anton Semenov
When I was four
I threw myself
Into the ocean
A beryl wraith spinning
A foam parasol
How I loved her,
A haunted mother
Who did not detest me
Exclusively
Sorrow does not
Defeat her
And her heart as sterile
As a needle promises
A return to innocence
That aging can not master
Her voice more pervasive
Than those within
An effacing static
That silences all who enter
Like a poem
Cast into the fireplace
To prevent its secrets
From spilling out
I had no idea
What dying meant
How permanent,
How transparent,
How tragic in respect
To my fragility
I might have held
My breath as a watermark
In proximity to beauty
Necessary as vanity
Which never is
I was prostrate
Sliding sideways
Across the sea floor
When you swept me
Currents and all into
Your treasonous arms
I don’t remember
What became of me
Perhaps I never woke up
*
When I was 4 I saw the ocean for the first time it was so beautiful that I ran into the waves without thinking. The undertow grabbed me almost immediately and I couldn’t escape it. The curious thing is I was never truly scared, I felt like I belonged there.
mindlovemisery 