Dark Water
Nick Soluri
these black rivers swallow me,
my lungs buried beneath oceans
of mud and rotting fish, breathe
of nothing left in me now,
no light shines over me,
the street signs look magical
in their geometric magnitudes,
stop signs are cubist again,
like doing drugs my mom would
disapprove of but i still do anyway,
this dark water surrounds me,
all of my fingers turn to prunes
or raisins at the bottom of
a bag of trail mix that have been
deliberately avoided, left alone,
and when the lagoon becomes
whole, the sound following suit,
all deltas of life will converge
on the voice of all families,
with waves of symphonic women
and a multitude of love flowers.
Nick Soluri is an undergraduate student at Union College in New York. He’s been previously published in Occulum, The Slag Review, Albany Poets, and others. He wants to thank those at the New York State Summer Writers Institute who helped workshop his poetry, and hopes that they too will find homes for their beautiful pieces. He lives in North Carolina, and is trying to get out of there. It’s too hot.