JOHN KARBULA
DARK WATER

Dark within, roilings of dark water.
Hard, sharp edges of rock;
the churning, ceaseless power of the waves
smashing violence on the brutal edges.
Deep within, the undertow
sucks whatever remains on a silent,
dreadful journey,
across the bottom, deep out to sea.
Outstretched arms flailing,
legs valiantly kicking, kicking,
are powerless in the face of this vast, dark pull.
Squirming, struggling, holding out beyond all
powers of endurance,
but in the dark beyond
there is no one to see or care.
When the mouth opens and the darkness rushes in;
the water salty as the blood roiling in the soul;
when arms fall limp and the legs hang lame,
the sucking relentless pull
just goes on ever deeper,
and the tumbled remains drift out
to the dark unknown.


 



 
 
 
INTIMATE

You were there.
intimate.
Candles glowing, wavering in the hot air
from the heat vent,
the hot wax dripping, dripping down.
I looked out the window
and I saw in my reflection
twenty eons back in time
and held my gaze,
you in my arms, the candles flickering.
It was cold outside,
below zero.
I walked out bare chested and let
the wind come hammering on my skin.
Looking back in, I saw
some candles burning
and, an empty chair.
I looked out at the clear night,
up into the clear sky;
a full moon blazed and
as a caravan, far off,
the wind chimes on the porch
clattered in the icy wind.
You were gone.
Forever.