acclimation “Keep bleeding. Just write toward something that is beyond blood.” – Leslie Jamison a floodlight blares across a crimson pool torrents of photons jab its surface rendering a form distorted, snapped, waving – magnetic tape and film reel. endpoints: toes perched atop a dull spike (iron-drenched stalagmite); twin eyes, bloodshot, through a maroon glaze visualize this thick lake only – they do not spot shadows ashore slinking about bloodless, as if blood does not exist, as if they would want to see it if it did. two worlds made unfamiliar in the surface uniting liquid and gas, bone white tile coping delineating wallow and dance; across those, a shriek: towel off already! just then, an underwater current snakes its way between rock and skin, driving feet forward from their roost, inviting one who had (for once) found purchase. as every swimmer knows, given time you bond with the wash, all else evokes repulsion; drip-drying on hard earth in ice winds? certainly abhorrent. having spent seasons, years, decades drowning, i only wish to float awhile before i'm dragged to shore.