i jumped off a pier into lake superior

it was cold and my eyeliner ran into
ink stains at the top of the water. the trees

faded and my body crowned itself in algae.
my heels ached as i sank and the torn apart

rocks became my bones. bubbling behind
my half broken, half eaten pupil. there was

something that i forgot to tell you and i think
it’s important enough to be in the cabinet. the adrenaline

disappears and all that’s left is desperate ice and snow
and carbon monoxide. i doubt we’ll stay here long

enough to decompose. pure lake water
swells my lungs followed by the sand. i ran

before i jumped and before i ran i saw god
tear open your skull. the last time i saw you

you were floating on the ice-soaked
sun. it was between what you called me

and the flies. i wish i could tell you what happens
when i find my head above water but we all know

the only thing i will be met with is ice. there’s something
poetic in the leaving behind of the grass

but we sit here, abandoned by the rip tide, waiting
for the sun to come up and find myself renewed

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