the closest I have come
to drowning
is this morning
while sipping my coffee
trying to burn out
the chalk, valium in my throat
my palm red, raw from the mug
but I tilt my head
back
neck envelope
unhitched jaw
throat agape, empty pockets
sucking in coffee like air
after holding my breath
for a year, ever since
I was sucker punched

(the second closest time
is when you drew
those maps on my skin)

hell in my mouth
buoyant, splashing hell
and god can’t save me now
and neither can you
and neither can the tip of my forefinger
french-tipped stomach acid forefinger
forefinger
acrobatics through fire
fire hula hoops that got stuck a decade ago
fire in my stomach (thighs, a**, f***ing brain)
get out
get out

(the third closest time

swallowing water is not so pretty
but at least at 2am
there are no mirrors
for the flames to lick

drowning in the morning
is car crashes in your driveway.
I am coming home
I am coming home…

(the third closest time
is when he drew
new maps
over the old ones
you got lost in)