Three High Schoolers by Drowning
by Jackson Holbert
They tore the brittle lattices
of branches & the lake
was a bar of silver.
They watched the callouses
of the moon efface the water,
then cliff, then road.
The sun had taught them
the directions & at noon
they drank from hoses
& on the porch collapsed
on mattresses stained with beer.
When they went back
it was dark & one of them
faltered, awkward on the dirt
lip, fell
through water
then one dove after him
then one dove after.
It took a helicopter
to find them
& two men with poles
to pull them from the lake
& when their skin tore
it tore like tissue paper
& when you put your head
near their stopped hearts
you could hear fish
knock against their ribs.