I Have Memorised a Series of Statistics About Drowning
after Benjamin Gucciardi
When the bus hits the tunnel and the sun disappears
I remember how the greatest risk-factor for drowning
is being near water; then being near it drunk;
then being near it young or male especially –
how an excellent precautionary step
is to be elsewhere. When the crowds outside me
are hammering waves I remember how
there are other risk factors: being poor (for example)
or being black or brown, though these
will vary across cultures, and here it may be
that the faces around me will carry their own
depth charges ready to detonate.
When my pressed-upon shudder and shriek breaks through
the shimmering surface, I remember how
I could never accept “everyone has drowned”,
because drowning is a judgement on those
who cannot swim, on the shame of needing
to be pulled from the water, your careless weight
a constant danger, the water indifferent,
the roar of riptide in your ears
the last thing there is before peace – of a kind.
When things go quiet, I remember how
the percentage of rescuers who drown
is unknown; there is little reliable data
for how much of you will be offered into
the water for someone else’s sake;
how much of you is at stake; how small
or how great a risk you are going to take
as you catch a last glimpse of a pale, wet face
before it disappears; how you see
the bubbles slow down, then stop, and realise
you don’t know – you have never known –
exactly how much time is left.
Tim Kiely is a criminal barrister and poet based in East London. He is the author of ‘Hymn to the Smoke’, ‘Plaque for the Unknown Socialist’ and ‘No Other Life’. Buy his work at timkielybooks.bigcartel.com. Visit his WordPress at timkielypoetry.wordpress.com.