I float like I did in your belly
I bob gently catch each coming wave
from the shore the tide breaks
like my voice on the phone
you’re an ocean apart from me
days lost years past
yesterday I almost drown
I felt you in my stomach
still attached to your umbilical cord.
Today I just float
as if you are holding me up
if you call now
I’ll dive for the phone
When you hear my voice you’ll talk
I’ll still be out here on the lake
I’ve lost the hope I held out for you
It’ll never happen
I will keep drifting
I’ll spill a few words in the wake
and I’ll hang on to what’s washed ashore
something minor to remember it all by.
What you will never see by TAK Erzinger | Poetry Reed Diffuser
TAK Erzinger is an American/Swiss poet and artist with a Colombian background.
Her poetry has been featured by journals at the Latino Book Review, Indiana University, Cornell University, McMaster University, the University of Baltimore and more. Erzinger’s poetry collection “At the Foot of the Mountain,” (Floricanto Press 2021), won the University of Indianapolis, Etchings Press Whirling Prize for 2021 for best nature poetry book and is a two-time finalist. Her latest poetry collection “Tourist” (Sea Crow Press 2023) is also a two-time finalist at the International Book Awards and the Eyelands Book Awards. Erzinger has been an artist in residence at the Padula Art Centre, Brison Veors and the Eutopia Art Residency. Most recently her first children’s picture book, Queen of the Mountain won five awards, including Book of the Year at Literary Global Children’s Book Awards.
She lives in the Alps in Switzerland with her husband and two cats.
