On Watching Myself Drown Poem by Thomas Buckley

From the shoreline i see a man,
his head barely breaking the choppy surface
and panic colors his pallid face and his misty, hazel eyes

fingers collapse through the surf in repetition
sending a spray of ocean water skyward to descend
back down amongst the waves

and i think to myself he must be drowning,
hopeless, at the hands of poseidon, to be pierced through by the majestic triton

but lost is he to the mighty sea
the drowning man
my own eyes burning hazel and panic coloring my face
i am the drowning man