A ladder rises out of the opal waves. I have to be cold,
otherwise I’ll cling to you. I lift myself into an icy wind.
Rain leaves bite marks on my skin. In a past life I turned
every love object into an enemy. Now I hold my breath
and dive again, through the warm surface layer into the deep.
Swimming, I’m part of the cloud cover, part of your
unknowable childhood, a below-the-surface type of pain
I push aside with my arms. Then I’m floating, weightless.
What’s heavy sinks, what rises remains with me. Which is
lightness. Peace. A flock of purple finch. A shallow spread
of snow from last night’s storm, coating the banks.
Blackbird
An online journal of literature and the arts
close
Catherine Pond
Catherine Pond (she/her) is the author of one collection of poetry, Fieldglass (Southern Illinois University Press, 2021), winner of the Crab Orchard First Book Prize and a finalist for the National Poetry Series. Her poems have recently appeared in Indiana Review, The Missouri Review, and AGNI, as well as in anthologies including Essential Queer Voices of U.S. Poetry, Best New Poets, and Best American Nonrequired Reading. She works as a freelance writer and lives in San Francisco.
Footer
