The Opposite of Drowning

Breeze blows into the compartment
through the wide open train door
and I am floating in liminal space—
immaterial and unhinged.

My feet lose their friction and so does
my mind. I see the green grass
and garbage and my body is moving
towards it all like a feather floating
through space without a care to where
it will land.

Hold me! I whisper, to no one
and anyone: I'm falling out!

I clutch an arm and make it to the next
station. The body expels what it needs to
and collapses.

A woman in cotton sari is crouching
with her bags. She comes to me
and splashes me with her water.

Like a Mother,
like a God.