Black Water

By Emily Clairmont

Inky pitch surrounds me
soft like satin
bending like cotton
suffocating to look at

I step into the water
a reflection of my soul
as imperfect and burdened
as my physical being

It envelops my body
as waterlogged wool
submerges muscle
tendon and bone
and as water returns to water 
I find a shade staring back

Transfixed I do nothing 
as the water rises
and two become one

The news that night says
“Another has drowned in Pitch Lake…”