Tonight, any body of water
will do, the hot tub, followed by the cold
shock of the winter pool. Just the thought,
and I feel some life coming back.
All day I dragged the heavy jug
of myself from task to task
in a daze, while on the stove, the war
that simmered under the lid began to roil.
Any body of water might suffice: a salt
bath to scrub off the chlorine, or a sink full
of dishes and lavender soap, the simple act
of getting things clean all the meditation
I can manage right now.
Any body of water will do, yours,
for instance, pressed to mine like a shell
to an ear. Any body of water, the earth,
if She’s so inclined, should be enough, this blue
bubble where oceans walk over oceans
under a watery sky. I wonder
might there be some way
to extend the lease, though my mind drifts
into the wavy expanse between
hemispheres, as I float headlong
into oncoming dreams.
Jackleen Holton’s poems have appeared in the anthologies The Giant Book of Poetry, California Fire & Water: A Climate Crisis Anthology, and Steve Kowit: This Unspeakably Marvelous Life. Honors include Bellingham Review’s 49th Parallel Poetry Award. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Florida Review, Poet Lore, Rattle, The Sun, and others.
MUSEPAPER POEM PRIZE #70
FEBRUARY 7, 2023 / MUSEPAPER POEM PRIZE #70 / "ANY BODY OF WATER" © 2022 JACKLEEN HOLTON