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The Drowning Girl

There was a dead girl in the pool.
She was facedown in the water,
her arms splayed out
as if, in her last moments,
she had tried to save herself
but she couldn't.
She had tried to kick,
she had tried to free herself
as the water dragged her under,
as the water yanked on her long, flowing hair with a sinister smile
but she couldn't do it;
the water was too strong.
She flailed with those lanky limbs of hers
but her struggle was for naught.
As she smiled and walked about,
she pretended
she couldn't taste the bitterness of the choking chlorine,
couldn't feel the water burn her nostrils as it nestled in her
but the water overtook her eventually
until there was nothing left.
I thought that girl would be dead forever.

But somehow, I learned to resuscitate her
when I thought there was no hope for her.
I dragged her corpse from that murky pool and
I put my mouth to her cold, blue lips,
blowing fresh air into water-filled lungs
until she vomited that water all over the ground,
coughing and gagging and spitting.
I pushed her to her side
as she purged that from her body.
When the water was gone from her,
I took her shaking hand and
helped her stand.




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