I go under.
Water rushing into my ears,
bubbling out of my nose,
eye sockets overflowing with its saltiness
my body sinks
deeper.
As the black dye pinned to my skin
for the past 43 years
seeps off
dissipating into
tendrils,
creating a dark, hazy atmosphere
above my heavy head
My body, feather-light, floats lower,
lower.
I become the black
clunky dye,
drifting higher,
higher,
to the surface then
Spreading.
I am lies
contorted truths of passion and empathy for our family’s downfall.
I am greed
thirsting, devouring, licking clean all the wealth of my life.
I am anger
slapping, spitting, singeing, done to those I know best.
Tunneling down
ricocheting against the green waters,
I become numb to my senses.
I see cloaked darkness,
hearing the grain of dust fall in,
tasting the liquid that consumes my molecular structure.
I hit a wall.
I think my back feels
the splintered wood of a boat.
-Erika Bell
