What is that white thing in the water
surely sunken once but
now rising skyward?
What is that white thing in the water?
Was it bound to resurface?
Or did someone seek it,
find it worthless,
and then release it?
What is that white thing in the water?
Is it my grandmother's pearls
the ones that had spilled across the
kitchen floor when grandfather
was a few beers into the morning
and his patience was running thin?
Is it the lacey veil my mother wore
on a breezy autumn day
when everything seemed like it was
just beginning
but, too late, she realized, was
the beginning of her suffering?
Or is it that fateful breath I sighed last winter
a foggy ghost of all hope leaving my lips
a breath made visible by the
light of the frigid velvet moon
and the realization that I'm the last thing on his mind?
Is it the shoestring from my pointe shoes
that I severed off in a rage after they
betrayed my grace opening night on stage?
Is it the white rage that I feel
every minute of every day?
Or is it the light rays showing
through the cracks of my
broken heart, broken skin,
broken promises?
Is it my soul, untethered from its
boney chamber between my ribs
deep in my lungs-
has my aching body shown it some mercy
setting it free as purity deserves to be?
Has that white thing in the water
returned to me?
