N O W   W E   B O T H   H A V E
D R E A M S   O F   D R O W N I N G

I remember her crying and running
on the boat shed's catwalk planks,
the hulls in shadowed rows,
the sharp slap of her sandals
echoing, then her breath
in hot gulps against my hip,

her showing me a boat sunk at its slip,
docklines straining down into the dark
tea-colored water, glimmer of decks and cabin
in the drowned silence, ghostly
chair, pale curtains waving
in the faint wake of living boats
out on the bright river.

I remember the hard, sweaty grip
of her hand, small shoulders shaking,
remember wanting to cover her with petals
from dry land, to close her eyes
already lit with recognition,
to lie into her ear, my daughter
this is nothing.

"Now We Both Have Dreams of Drowning" is a poem from Florence Nash's Crossing Water, published by Gravity Press, 1996. Used by permission of the publisher.