Will you swim to me? If my legs
cease to swan, will you
swim? Under a billowing
of the gravest ash, we swaddled
our bruises in baby-cloth,
bandaged skin with new skin.
You crooned to me
songs of valences
while I ran my tongue over
your bareness, my baby bird.
And you said /this is all moment/
as I thought /we are all amniotic/
In a pool of laudanum
we stay suspended, while all
language has found us
wanting, while I find myself wanting
to sever our barnacle-caked grip
and watch you
swim to me, unbeckoned.
About the artist...
Ariella Carmell is a fourth-year student at the University of Chicago whose writings can be found in Spry, Words Dance, Up the Staircase Quarterly, and other publications.