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 atblay.com.