Down at the bottom by Sally Mercer

Hold your breath,
it’s like rising
through the branches at sunset
the rush, the sprinkles
of tight, watery chandeliers
illuminating your powerful lungs

fill your hollows
with oxygen, descend
to where the pressure
collapses your ribs, pushes
the gases from you;
they’re superfluous here
as your sink, past your own image,
into the depths

reach for me, my love
as the balloon, vain in attempts
to inflate, to bring you
to my arms
and the history books.
Call to me, my love
as the blue fills your irises
grasps at your life
taking your last and leaving
bubbles, memories
as empty as the tank
that would have secured your
honour.

Go to, my only,
in sleep, I remember
the spread of your mane
in the cobalt forever,
stay with me always
in the moments I keep
within the air that I breath
synonymous now with the deep.

Author bio:

Sally Mercer is a 31 year old near-perfect mock-up of a responsible member of society. She has been writing poetry since she was a child and continues to marvel at the way that words feel against her teeth. As a university student in Durham, UK nearly a decade ago, Sally squandered all opportunities to further her academic career but did enjoy the many wonders of the stotty: an altogether stouter and more doughy version of the humble white roll. Despite an inherent frustration with the reliance of the postal system, she loves to write letters and above all else, poetry; without which she would be mute in amongst a world dripping in high decibel occurences. Sally has her own blog featuring her writing (The unexplored life) yet this is her first submission to a journal, due to a rather late commitment to submitting her work for critical consideration, and hopes this is one step towards making her first million.