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In the morning I pack up my gear |
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and toss it in my carryall |
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Run the wide load to the lip |
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and watch the big core crack and glow |
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In the evening I undo my belt |
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Split open and melt |
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I wake up on my stomach |
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with my face between my hands |
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and crawl along the floor toward the doorway |
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Jumping to my feet |
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I try to put myself together |
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but I feel it in my knees |
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and the room begins to spin |
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and I slip and bump my head and raise a welt |
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Split open and melt |
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We breathe deep |
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in a steam dream |
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and plunge below the water line |
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down, down, down |
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between beams |
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to the gloom room |
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among the seaweed and the slime |
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down, down, down |
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Melt |