At the bottom

of the pool
I catch

cut-up

glimpses
of all the faces

I’ve seen
—sometimes

known.
Rapture

quickly forgotten

like a kiss
after

too much wine,
at the bottom

where the heart
drops its beats

—in technicolor.
They’ll gleam

to the surface,
above where

the faces
drew me in.

There’s a moth
hot-white

with tambourine

chimes
caught

in the water.
And the chimes,

entangled,
sink

at the bottom

of the pool
where

I can see

all the faces
of the people

I’ve seen
—sometimes

known

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_____________

Photo: Emilie SCIARLI ~ https://www.instagram.com/teddycalavera/