All winter the water
   has crashed over
       the cold the cold sand. Now
           it breaks over the thin
 
branch of your body.
   You plunge down, you swim
       two or three strokes, you dream
           of lingering
 
in the luminous undertow
   but can’t; you splash
       through the bursting
           white blossoms,
 
the silk sheets—gasping,
   you rise and struggle
       lightward, finding your way
           through the blue ribs back
 
to the sun, and emerge
   as though for the first time.
       Poor fish,
           poor flesh
 
you can never forget.
   Once every wall was water,
       the soft strings filled
           with a perfect nourishment.

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Parker Jennings Dylan Perez-Gale Cory Garcia steven
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Greg Adams
almost 2 years

Here is what is missing.

you can never forget.
Once every wall was water,
the soft strings fluid
with a perfect movement
pumping your body
full of appetite,
elaborating your stubby bones,
tucking in like stars,
the seeds of restlessness
that made you, finally,
swim toward the world
kicking and shouting
but trailing a mossy darkness--
a dream that would never breathe air
and was hinged to your wildest joy
like a shadow.

Julie Smith
over 4 years

Why does the poem in the video have a completely different ending from that posted above? Was the poem revised?

Cory Garcia
about 5 years

Sweetly Powerful... Love this!

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