We submerge ourselves under
the shattering icy glass,
it breaks over our heads and
spikes the surface of our skin
my toes search upwards
and my lungs become the centre of myself,
two lumps of flesh floating
within a blue body, my heart
makes itself known
my hair scatters in lines out from me
my head a Medusa of snakes and storms,
the salt clings to it and
eats at my scalp pores.
It seems easier to bear alone,
it feels almost baptismal,
a perfect morning ritual, a perfect
offering to Tangaroa,
a quiet unsquealing,
an un-uttered gasp.
We submerge ourselves under
and the ice shatters overhead
I feel my blood boiling over
and then I put on a beanie.
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