Adam Gianforcaro is the author of the poetry collection Every Living Day (Thirty West, 2023). His poems can be found in The Offing, Poet Lore, Muzzle Magazine, Northwest Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Delaware.
The organism of crowd dances on its own,
mimics the swift and swirl of ocean currents
Imagine: bodies sixty percent of a substance
so easily moved by the moon
I don’t need a scientist to tell me how to drown
As children, my sister practiced saving my life
in our aboveground pool
My sister is a flight nurse now
and I still write poems from underwater
Imagine: a basement floor sixty percent human sweat
To suck back air that tastes like boiling vinegar
Our clothes have sponged secretions enough
to waterboard the hungriest black hole in the heavens
There are a lot of people I miss and I miss them every day
Bodies of water too much like human bodies
A river is not the only thing that can carry me upstream
I was stage left when we started
and somehow end up all the way over here
If I have learned to forgive anything,
it is motion it is movement