by Constance Moore
This poem represents an excursion into what I call a “mash-up” of poems and
poetry styles. Here I combine the styles of Ishmael Reed and Jack Spicer,
two Bay Area poets working in different time periods but both pushing boundaries.
— Nearly 70% of African American children and nearly 60% of Hispanic children
have low or no swim ability, compared to 40% of Caucasians, putting them at risk for drowning.
— Approximately 10 people drown every day in the U.S.
— The amount of water in the human body ranges from 50-75%
— The ocean covers 71% of the Earth's surface and contains 97% of the planet's water,
yet more than 95% of the underwater world remains unexplored.
* * *
What is true of oceans is true, of course, of this poem
Vast, terrifying, salty
This poem will not quench your thirst but this poem will get you wet
Play at the edges of this poem
Tickle the surf
Dip in the words and spaces
Splash the foamy surface of this poem
Do not turn your back on this poem
It will catch you unaware
Knock you on your feet
And drag you into the heart of this poem
Let the tides carry you far from shore
Drift out past your breaking point, where the water hardly moves
There in the glassy middle of this poem, you can relax
Float with the rhythm of this poem
Let your body crest and fall, crest and fall
Look up at the sky. Count the stars.
Face turned away from the murky depths of this poem
It is easier that way
Do not think about what lies beneath, what lives inside this poem
Feel it brush against you
Cold, sharp, alive
This poem is pulling you under
Do not resist
This is the moment
This poem opens itself to you
If you have the courage
Dive deep into this poem
Hold your breath and keep your eyes wide open
The truth of this poem will sting
Keep looking. Dive deeper
This poem will show you what has been lost, submerged, ddrowned
Inside this poem
Infants and memory tossed overboard
Possessions and madness discarded
You will see vanity and injustice
Swimming side by side
Teeth bared, empty bellied, hungry
You are in too deep now
The pressure of this poem will confuse you, disorient you,
and make you lose your way
Rise slowly out of this poem
You have stayed too long,
In the water and in this blessed poem
Swim fast, if you can, back to shore
Unless you are a child or a fool
You’ll drown, dear. You’ll drown.