Floating Away




My solace

My time waster

My mind eraser

til I wake up and remember the dreams

Amniotic fluid to float in

A dark, green pond I barely surface from


Yet I do


Every afternoon

In my bed—the pillows hot, the blankets tangled,

drool crusted on my face, eyes glued almost shut


The more depressed I am

the more I sleep


And float, though my skin puckers and

my mind grows weary, trying to find what I need

in thick, inky water.


by Leslie Wells

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