I imagine how it would feel to watch the ice reform overhead
and through the body as I see myself swimming
into sweet-toothed spirals—if the ice would thicken
enough to block out all light, chords spasming in the silence—
a C sharp minor, silk under the fingers, strum into shivers—
a contraction of every curved turn and muscle of confusion.
It is not hard to trace the corkscrew path I wound, again, to these depths
where the numbed imagination fails itself into wondering
how hard the heart must beat to flow through icy constriction
how hard this timber compulsion must pulse until I am done
gasping, and grasp for that—caged thing—inside the chillest lands of me.
And if, by some witchcraft, I manage to float upward,
how long until my lungs fill with water again. 

Oh, My Word! Olivia would love to hear from you after reading this poem. Leave a comment below!


Oh, My Word! is a weekly updated blog featuring fiction, poetry, drama, and essays for the world. #OhMyWordWednesday

Hit “Like” if you enjoyed the post, and don’t forget to subscribe!

end rhyme adversary

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: