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.