Down to the end of a wooden dock
that sticks out a good way into the water,
she sits legs crossed, feet under thighs, hunched over
with her elbows to her knees, head resting
in her palms. She tries controlling her breathing,
but holding her breath makes her throat expand
like it is croaking. Saliva pools in the lower corners
of her mouth under her tongue, and she barely has time
to adjust herself as the bile climbs out of her throat
and down the front of her yellow crop top, dripping
onto her stomach and crossed legs. Tears are forced
from her ducts as her stomach convulses. Capillaries
around her eyes are popping from strain. Feeling weak,
she falls to the left on her side and curls into a trembling ball
but she wants to get the vomit off her
as soon as possible. Her shaking palms
press against the splintering deck, pushing
to her knees to feel what was once inside squish
between her fingers, making her stomach spasm;
she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can
when her only source of light is dying
from the wind. Before righting her balance, she slips
backwards in the bile and tumbles into the blackened lake. Her head
plunges first and water comes rushing into her nose. It burns
her nose as her eyes tear open in fear. She's disoriented
from the alcohol in her system and the water is too strong
against her weakened limbs. She tries to position herself
up right, but the more she moves, the deeper she sinks.
She holds her breath and tries
to ignore the burning sensation up her nose and on
her eyes and in her head and she can't
hold on. Oxygen isn't going where it needs to and the edges
of her vision darken. As a last attempt to fight, she reaches
forward to grasp at anything, anything she can get ahold of. Her fingertips
stretch and curl only to move through the murky prison. Her vision
is almost completely blackened out as she surrenders
her losing fight. There's a burn in her chest that grows
as the rhythm behind it slows. Her body,
like the water, is still, cold, and tinted blue.
