The Slide
By Jill Jones
Sometimes they put you in seas
or rivers without telling you.
The river is dark, let’s say
and trees are low over you.
In the branches are owls
making noises like a machine
breathing.
After you come away from this
you have a scar and a jar
where you swim.
It is chemical, archaeological
and violent.
So you wash it all away.
It’s too early for things to be
broken or twisted
but even when you run, you fall.
All your life, if you could fly
all your life slides from under you
and you do not have to swallow
water or hear it.
You do not have to but you must
as the clouds fall without telling you.