DESCENT Poem by Esther Jansma

We crossed the Styx.
The ferryman lay drunk in his boat.
I took the helm and we sank like stones.

Water like the earth consists of layers,
transparent ribbons, glistening strata
of ever less life, less warmth.

Bubbles blossomed in your hair,
the current tugged your head backwards
and caressed your throat.

Stones waved with algae and ferns,
gurgled softly, sang of 'peace'.
They sliced your clothes away.

Fish licked the blood from your legs.
I held your hand tight. I wanted to comfort you,
but we were falling too fast and no words can exist

without air; my love
lay above, blue balloons, brief buoys,
marking the site of the accident,

before flowing on. Your mouth fell open,
your face turned red, your two hands sought
for balance, sought my arms.

You tried to climb up inside me.
You were a glass blower with a cloud of diamonds
circling his mouth. I hugged you like a kitten.

I stroked your fingers.
You held on tight.
You fell asleep. I stroked your fingers, let go.