On Drowning Poetry by Peter Dunne As troubled children often tend to do we exercised our right to happiness by taking life for granted. Death was beautiful. We sensed the world’s impending doom & threw ourselves into its mouth. Bereft of calm we reached for you the way a drowning man extends his hands toward the sky when bubbles cloud the halcyon blue & burst with silence. No one told us it was normal to cry like a wave against the shore. & so we never did. Instead we held it all inside of us.