impression: sunrise

It’s easy to get

lost in the grass

that fills the yard

of the house where 

I grew up, where

I learned the color 

of sunrise—and  

now I lie flat on my belly

and feel as though I

can melt into it, and it pulls 

me away, like the

impression of a sunrise 

under which a riptide

holds me under

tossing me around

until I do not know which

way is up 

and so I push forward

but it is only deeper 

into the murky 

depth which fills my lungs 

with soggy dirt 

and it is only

when I think I have drowned 

that I drift

upwards towards the 

surface and hear 

a sound that resembles 

you laughing at my 

grass-stained clothes

After Impression: Sunrise, Claude Monet