Spare me the water.
Drown in it
yourself
if you must.
Nothing will change.
I've told you this a thousand times,
I'm innocent
of this thing you accuse me of.
It looks bad, I'll admit,
the things we'd done
secret exchanges,
the wet work
beneath the surface,
and what I may have mispoke
in the breathless air between,
back when I was still unaware
of who you really were,
what you really were.
But no.
I'm innocent,
and I refuse to make
a confession.
You told me once,
"Words don't hold water."
Why ask for them now?
Why the wrong ones
the words that incriminate me
drown me in a guilt
of a crime I refuse to commit?
I'm not naive as a babe.
I can't swallow amniotic fluid
and can no longer breathe
with my gut.
And the breath you wish exhaled
and shaped precisely
according to your specifications,
that breath is different,
independent,
undependable.
That breath could lie through its lips,
it could lip while I lie
if I really wanted it to.
But I don't.
So I'll hold it instead.
Hold it,
if need be,
forever.
So please,
for your sake:
Don't hold yours.
---
"Per Aquem en Verbo" is a Latin phrase expressing the justification for the sacrament of baptism. It literally means the "Water in the Word." At the very time I sought to write this poem, there was much debate and controversy regarding the practice of "water-boarding," questions about whether it constituted "torture," or was merely harmless "dunking" as Vice President Dick Cheney seemed to imply. As is often the case with political controversies and scandals, much comes down to the definitions of certain key words, and whether those definitions can "hold water" under the storm of real life situations. I invite you to read one article that explores the broader historical context of "water-boarding": "History of an Interrogation Technique: Water Boarding / New Debate Sparked on What Constitutes Torture" by Brian Ross, Chief Investigative Correspendent in the November 29th, 2005 edition of ABC News.
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