Round, Round
Backstroking round, round my living citadel round, round this last refuge round, round eyes squinting making out shadows round, round through straining tired lids Circling smiling last offer of peace between their sharp beaks round, round my white garment I waved nearly drowned, shrieking round, round banshee swooping down Breaststroke heart-pumping, I’m now enjoying warring adrenalin beating drum though my ankles, caught stinking swamp weed I will never front-crawl Sign in to see full entry.