Last night when you were driftwood,
all drenched in sleep
but weathering the stormy seas as usual
by my side,
I dreamt that I was drowning.
From high beyond the surface, streaks of sun
cut through the up above and pierced right into me
like golden arrows. You slept on.
The mirrored belly of the sea revealed a locker
full of trinkets lost to time. Silhouettes
of ships and pillars, collected round my flailing form.
Yet as the depths rose up to wrap their inky trails
around my useless arms and legs
to draw me down, I woke.
And found my driftwood floating there,
asleep above the waves.
And as with every other time
I’d drowned before,
I reached for you and held on tight.
You always glide serene upon
the endless ebb and flow of days,
while the current slowly pulls me under
and I am doomed to thrash my life away
just to keep breathing.