at night i dream water
big water, unruffled as glass and as clear
blue spanning from feet to horizon
world open wide as a mouth tilted up to the sky.
i pause at the edge, frozen
under my umbrella, cold and naked in my suit,
the water will cover me, swallow me whole like a pill
inside: you can’t get any closer
but i hang at the edge, tightrope walking.
i like to know what i’m getting into.
and the longer i look, the more i see
down to the bottom where shadows are growing
blues bisect, forms shudder and surge
jellyjointed hammerhead, viscous fingerling
rise toward the surface like yeasty pudding,
like balloons, like tears, like ghosts, like dreams.
they say that water is emotion. they say dreams
shed light. light reveals water, water is sky’s reflection.
overhead, putty-colored clouds writhe and bloom,
piled like sopping sponges, unformed fingers fumble for me.
I huddle on the edge under my umbrella.
either way, I’m going to get wet, either way.
After a hard week, I was having trouble getting into the mood to write so I thought I’d try something new. Usually, I write first and then search for an image to accompany my words but this time, I found the image first. Photographer B.S. Wise kindly agreed. I am both surprised and intrigued by the response it evoked since I don’t really write poetry and I would characterize my voice as edgy, while this turned out quite surreal. I think I like it.
What do you do to get in the mood to write?