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'Lover, You Rise from Water' by Austin Tremblay

Rise and let the pool quietly cry

over your body, a buoy sobered

without wind. Fluorescence

dizzies us, the stale ceiling light

searching across water. We are sick

with joy, and the world too possible

to see through.

Let the tile scream its echo, a voice

across the improbably warm air.

Allow a small wave to split you,

distort everything but your skin

until you are misshapen underneath

yourself, a form illegibly reflected.

Interrupted revision, chlorinated

and chemical-drunk nostalgia

desperate to stay atop the water.

What is a memory if not a bay

troubled by current?

Rise up now, darling, a storm

over the dark river, a laden, wet

taste, more swallow than breath.

We are too heavy to drag back

to wherever it was we told ourselves

we could float.


Austin Tremblay would like to cede his biography space to a reminder that: Black lives matter, science is real, love is love, women’s rights are human rights, and no human is illegal. If you’re curious about what Austin is up to, you can visit him virtually at


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