Below the Surface

I stood too close to the swollen river,

waves dragging the night's fallen branches—

a boy's hand flashed, caught beneath a raft,

black shape moving like a shadow forgotten.

Branches tangled, leaves slippery with rain,

the water pulled everything like it meant to

swallow the light, the sound of his gasps,

a breath snatched away in cold hurry.

My own lungs locked, air thick and too sharp,

words stuck on the lip of panic,

watching him vanish under the surface,

and feeling myself sink, again and again,

like drowning without water,

breathless in a room full of air.