George Kendrick
A Charm against Drowning
Out to the boom was easy enough, and over,
But there the treading water trod me down.
There, faithfully, I died for my instructor.
Your champion chums across the tideless bay
Half a cool mile — but, splashing awkward fins
Your drowning man is drowning all the way.
Land crawls ahead. You die a little, and lie —
Dead jaws gnashing the surf, English and mad —
And no one hears you shouting quietly
Into the greenstone at your throat. No wonder
That striking out for home is not enough,
If there the friendly hobnails ram you under
As, scaled with cold, you rise to the tiled side.
Hooked up and hawking air, bleeding water,
— Poor fish! — I died once. Then again I died.
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