Under the Over

As enamoured as I am
of words, syllables, sound, and line,
the cataract can swallow
my attention to say nothing
of my interest and under
the over rushing currents
I wander in another world,
walking on the silt soft floor,
welcomed by life
unnoticed above.

I do not 
forget this freedom
when called to surface.
It is the smile tucked
in the curl of my shell.

Kimberly M. King