free

"free"

by june i

was starting to drift from shore. i moved

towards the solstice sun hanging over the horizon

until he called me back,

the dog shivering.

euphoria, he said, is the first

sign of hypothermia.

by july

i was slipping off rockweed into the alaskan pacific.

peeling trees from my skin at benzaman lake,

spinning my spine into an unnamed river near

the goat carcass below the twisty hemlock branches

in south baranof island.

you are like a child, he said, your eyes

so full of wonder.

by august

all of us, were wading in with

neon underwear and diagonal torsos,

holding on to each other’s limbs,

stepping feet around crackles of barnacle coated rock

diving under to find the

flight of middle of the sea suspension.

stay, he said, afterwards, his arms locking at the elbow,

sliding over my wet collarbone as we watched

the plankton glow green dust around our toes.

by september i was drifting across the continent,

floating high in a big plastic bird.

i stepped outside again where summer

meant afternoon thunder

and too humid to function.

the alder leaves stuck to my shoulders,

evaporated by cruising altitude.

summer dried waves in my hair.

the water dissolved distance,

melting topography and in between air, freezing fear

and wildness at once into my skin, reminding me,

thoroughly, and completely,

of where i was.

i didn’t feel my flight home. it was pressurized air and itchy pillows

hung above

the geometry of a landscape far

below. freedom

steals breath and hugs

goosebump coated skin

and pulls minds and ribs

into bodies

and is euphoric and maybe

the first sign of hypothermic

and no matter how close you are to it,

it never really, fully lasts.  

dls