Superior water to my coffin-laid
body, litmus-red and breathing,
formed pinholes adjacent to the upper
trough floor. Slow clear beams rushed in.
How does it elevate, this liquid
when I prepossess its natural space?
How does it act absent dancing light,
summer syntax of public swimming pools?
Gravity subsides and I lie still,
My eyes follow a wandering finger,
envious in the air outside.
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