Deep in the new misery
of learning how the old misery 
worked — as if I’d emerged
from a near drowning
only to find the surface world
on fire.

I say,
“This too shall pass,
as did the old pain.”
My lungs are hot
from past strain
and present blaze — 

no wonder I breathe fire. 
No wonder at my daze, at my
lost and unfound.  I say,

“there must be a future here
somewhere,” but can’t see it
for the smoke.  Ah well —

if it gets too thick
I can once again choose
to drown.