ink blots

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How
can I stop to
breathe,
take a minute to
slow down
and embrace my
grief; there’s no
way, not when
if I stop
I sink to the
bottom,
can’t let myself drown.
How
can I
breathe
when the
new black water
is so heavy and
mean it will force
its way down my
throat just like
it did to you?
How
can I learn to breathe?
Even after I’ve
hit clear water
I still fear the
oil, and what if it’s
behind me, will it
find me, and I’m
trying to get away
but there’s nothing there—
there’s nothing there
and I know it
but I don’t.
How can you breathe?
You were there, I
saw you
the slaughter
poisoning the waters and…
and you sank.
I know you did.
How are you breathing,
and is that air clean…
and when can I breathe it, too?





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