Promiscuous Depths Poem by Mark Heathcote

I longed likewise like a brook
to work out and understand her
ever-changing promiscuous depths
that sank-deeper than the soft-silts
that these willow tree roots hook.

I wanted to swim with her current
I wanted to bridge her stepping stones.
Lose all balance and fall into her
shallowest margins and once there.
Tiptoe-deeper till the swirl-water tugs.

Pull's me away from the safety of help.
I wanted to experience drowning.
First hand and be saved by someone.
With even fewer virtues than myself
so I could say I showed her the way.