Saturday, May 11, 2013

"Dive In"


 

The drink she poured herself got taller with each night she spent stuck in the long, echoing, after-dinner darkness, until finally she just dived in, and her hair got tangled, and her skin got cold, and she realized despite its depth that the pool she had dug herself to swim in was very small after all.

[Written after reading this amazing poem by James Wright: "In Response to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West Virginia Has Been Condemned"]

No comments:

Post a Comment