By Rosa Cruz
In my life underwater, everything has learnt
the trick of heaviness, slow
as Sunday afternoon.
Something ponderous with yellow eyes,
all bones and mange,
lifts its head.
Beached in the half-light of no-season
my inner weather is folded
A land of beige where brackish water
seeps under lintels, puddles
Like Sisyphus I roll each jellied day one
after the other, without Orpheus
to sing me back.
Lethe-bound, each night submerge
into chemical sleep
shelter in shadows.
This poem is from my debut pamphlet of poetry - Surfacing - which charts the devastating and complex submergence of a mental health breakdown, and back out again. Further details are available here: http://ninemusespoetry.com/surfacing/
The image is from: www.pixabay.com, released free of copyrights under Creative Commons (CC0).