By Lu Godfrey
The goose sleeps
On the water
His head hidden and his feathers out
The rain snipes the pond and tears the trees’ petals out
To make the water bleed
But it blankets him
And I want to watch, silent
And I want to shout
I want to sleep
Like him, on the water’s shell without an anchor
Or at least get in a boat
But I am too nervous to steal from the neighbors
And I am too nervous that the boat will flip over
And crack the water
So I wait for a boat to come around the bend and take me down below instead
I wish I loved swimming
I wish I could live without thinking
Of drowning and the sharp rocks on the shore grinning
Of the spirits of the trees and the people watching from their houses,
Of dimming
I wish I loved the water
But I hate it
I hate swimming
I hate being washed
I hate being touched
I hate too much
But just this once, I let the rain blanket my hands,
Open on my knees,
Untying the bandages
I wish I could love sleeping
But it is Easter and I am a shell
So I let the rain paint my nails
And blitz my heavy clothing
So it doesn’t touch my face
My face is left alone
I do not make a noise in my mouth
But underneath my shell are sharp, tiny fish
Swimming around so much and so heavy the shell loses a piece
But the water blankets the cracks
I wish I loved the water
I wish I loved to sleep
I love the noises outside the shell
That are so new to me
But the silence was always deeper.