how the going get gone

how the going get gone

you're hell bent
on striking the last blow.
each severance, each partition, is
a line break begged for.

just words and words and words. 
a swarm of mint moths eating the amber wool.

I see you clearly
there you are, under the warm warp
of summered lake skin.

you're seducing me to swim with you, when you cannot swim.
'come in' you say, 'it's not as cold once you get used to it.'

you push me under.
I bob up, I am pulled out like a paper boat to the middle.

the writing's on my back.
you cannot see where I went to or what's being said there.