Chlorine is a strong chemical, one that
seeps into the nose, the mouth, fills two lungs
with unnatural cleanliness. The deep drums
in my skull pound and pound, insistent bats
pelting at my brain. Pray to God, thank fast
for the small relief that at night no one comes
to the pool. Ease into the water, guns
drawn for the fight against the cold surge, cat
claws at my throat. I welcome it and cry,
for this will be my end, the finale
I envisioned, the path I chose. Then why
does my skin curl back into me, madly
afraid of the liquid which whispers, sighs
of a quick death, no drums, not unhappy?
K Michelle Pfoltzer 