Displacement

The textbook was heavy, a brick on my knees,

until it slipped into the steam and the soap.

I watched the ink run in dark, purple seas,

blurring the chapters on logic and hope.

It reminded me of that summer at the lake,

the instructor’s hand a pale blur in the sun.

He told me to float for my own safety’s sake,

but I felt the cold water starting to win.

The pages are bloating, turning heavy and gray,

losing their sharp edges under the tap.

It’s funny how quickly a world washes away

when you let the wrong thing fall into your lap.