Pretending to Drown
The only regret is that I waited
longer than a breath
to scatter the sun’s reflection
with my body.
New stars burst upon the water
when you pulled me in.
On the shore, our clothes
begged us to be good boys again.
Every stick our feet touched
a snapping turtle, every shadow
a water moccasin.
Excuses to swim closer to one another.
I sank into the depths to see you
as the lake saw you: cut in half
by the surface, taut legs kicking,
the rest of you sky.
Suddenly still, a clear view
of what you knew I wanted
to see.
When I resurfaced, slick grin,
knowing glance; you pushed me
back under.
I pretended to drown,
then swallowed you whole.
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