flipper

If you do not come up, I will go down after you
even though I have floppy legs and ear drums
as delicate as paper lanterns. I will kick and kick,
I will close my eyes, I will think about frogs,
I will pray dear God please let me sink. I know
I will not be able to bring you back through
this much weight and wet. I know once I reach
you in that far green fish country, it will be all
I can do to let my body loosen like a shoelace
and shoot for sky. But I will not come out of this
ocean to your absence. I would much rather
squeeze your wilting hand while our lungs send
their last balloons up, up, bulb-clear and brief.
                 O that would not be the worst thing.

Bryana Joy is a writer, poet, and painter who works full-time sending illustrated snail mail letters all over the world. She spent her childhood in Turkey and is currently in the middle of a one-year sojourn in York, England with her husband. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in an assortment of literary journals, including The Christian Century, Ruminate, and The Sunlight Press. She has a thing for thunderstorms, loose-leaf tea, green countrysides, and the music of Johann Sebastian Bach.