Submerged

By Conor Tangney

Wedged in a shoreline

I haven’t seen the sun in 42 days

or the closest approximation.

Wrenched out and wrung dry

the waves move in perpetual light,

shuffling like happy dancers

moving to the rhythms of the earth.

But her feet are firm

planted like reeds with give for motion

not standing in the way of progress

not relenting either.

Seeing what gives and what takes

keeping quiet score

a secret no one else may know,

tallying for the end.

Underwater

it’s lonely work,

but someone’s gotta do it.

Tell me with surety,

wouldn’t it all be easier

if we knew everyone else did it too?