No Pity (for Matthea Harvey)

It's the selkies that did it, seeking mercy in reflective surfaces—
you don't get to feel sorry for yourself, you don't get to
drown. You don't get to be alone with your thoughts
when lithe bodies slip into the water. Let them float.
Let them come to you with their half smiles and
looming eyes, with their streamlined skin, a plug
in the drain. Feet against ceramic. Temperature
dipping. Look beyond the rim. They grow old.
You grow older. One space and moment and then
gone, but before gone, before long, before unwinding
the water down, see if you can breathe, just one breath
underneath.

Then you’ll see suffering. No pity. No mercy.

Simply being.