I visit
the glass hall
in my mind
with the black pool.
You would think
someone spilled
tons and tons
of ink.
But it's not ink.
It's poison.
I know it's dangerous.
I can't see how deep the pool
really is.
I know once I step in
I'll drown.
I will disappear under black ripples
without a fight.
But it's so beautiful.
The scalloped tiles around the pool
are inlaid with marble:
white swirling with grey
and bits of abalone.
The black water sparkles and
softly bubbles
like the safest stream.
So I lay down and run
my fingers through the warm
abyss.
It wouldn't hurt to swim.
I could just
roll over and hold
my breath.
But I know better.
I have to walk
away.
