B tries to tell me something and I am only half listening
Well, it was just that I held him under.
I found him at the Sanctuary,
tripping about, clumsy, poisoned
most like. And I took him and
took him home and held him under
the water. Only I didn’t know he would struggle
and his little heart. I thought it was
the best thing for it, wrapped my hand
around his body and held him below
the surface of the water. I didn’t know
that under the pad of my thumb,
I would feel his heart drumming,
little heart, like fingers against glass.
Maria McMillan lives, works and writes in Wellington. She mostly writes poetry, press releases about things that make her grumpy, and overly verbose Facebook updates about the cuteness of her two small daughters. Her work will next appear in issue 3 of Enamel, due out in a month or two.
When I heard Maria read this poem at an open mic session I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had to see it in writing so I begged her for it. Maria really should be getting more attention, I hope we see a chapbook from her soon.
You can read more Tuesday Poems at the hub, including another by Maria.