My Brain on a Polaroid

I can’t see because the ocean
is covering my eyes again as I
try drowning for the tenth time–
the other nine were abject failures,
and I shot to the surface, breaking
the water with my moony face
upturned and desperate for air
instead of welcoming in the water.

I have learned since then, and as
I open my mouth this time, I see
an image…a Polaroid picture of my
brain, and I remember standing in
the backyard of my grandmother’s
house, waving that little square of
paper, waiting for the picture to appear.

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