by Kate Ginger
art by Sophia Gregorace
stretches before me,
shrinking the scenery,
sublimating, so the haze rises
against the stark sky
and i’ve never felt so small.
smaller still,
when ink sloshes onto my board
soaking my legs and feet
chilling me to the bone
then receding into the well of ink
that mirrors an invisible night sky.
and i’m reminded of the dark
dappled by waterlilies,
they glow, unblinking, among lilypads
whose tendrils twist and twirl,
reaching into the ink, unafraid.
and i wonder if i might be swallowed.
still, i leap.
the frothy ink washes through
my hair, my eyes, my mouth
rattling my teeth and wrenching my gut
yet i bob to the surface
and i float, unstained.
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