churning things smack my face
before I hold breath to go under...
a water wheel,
I think I am tied to it,
a revolutionary participant,
sanely resisting any fresh wound
that puts blood in the water.
blind, I feel for the rope
to be pulled in the event of an emergency,
the crisis may come later
down the road
what makes my mind pull two directions at once,
thinking itself limitless it sees no antagonism,
only fighting and wanting
what a stain this beating red disaster will leave,
one thing or the other...
or the other,
or waiting for the wheel to go round again.