One moment

dies into the next,

and the next moment

is always smaller.

 

an inch

graduates to a foot,

quiet as shadows merging in a crowd.

 

The alligator’s roll

and I’m in it’s jaws;

the water is deep

and he’s not tiring.

 

This is the deep,

This is the place

where doors

move away

and the sun slams

into the horizon

with a metallic boom.

 

This is the deep.

 

Languor becomes

a nervous thing,

a fly on a windowpane.

 

These are the depths

where there’s nothing to be seen

in the clouds anymore.

 

These are the depths.

 

The waters are deep

and I’m in the teeth

of The gator’s spin.

 

The deep

lives and breathes

in the shadow of love,

where the wind blows cold

until the stillness finally freezes over.