I watched two drown in their preacher’s grip.
Have you ever heard someone gasp back
to life? Like gargling a scream. But Jesus
crushed the snake’s head, their preacher said.
He believed in what he couldn’t see or hear.
He held me down and repeated my first name.
I held down dioxides and a blue racer interrupted
the ripples, splitting sawgrass, zippers, cheap
cigarettes by the quarry. My quick shimmy
a fake rattle. Danger only wants to be believed.
I only returned to skinny dip and peekaboo.
To see what I hadn’t seen, even if it looked like
what I had. Everyone watching from the shore
had my last name, knew the same dead too.