Oxbow

I think I drowned when I met you,

And took the next few years to surface.

Who knows just what our hearts and minds can do,

When we’re struggling hard for purchase.

What is want so quickly turns to need,

The past looms darkly to pursue us.

Love, an oily, slippery weed,

The water glittered, beckoned, deep lust.

But there were tides, even there, turning,

I disentangled, rose and gasped for air.

Dewed, still breathing, to greet the morning,

Flexed my neck, wrang the silt from my hair.

Once I was refracted, distilled.

Now I breathe, remember, chilled.