ophelia pulled back from the water

by Celinda Olive

I sat on the floor of my parents’ living room,

staring through strands

of my own wet hair.

Darkness hovered above,

a black webbing that threatened

to penetrate all my living space —

but through the clear ring of a voice

on the other end of the phone

I heard truth for the first time

in a very, very, long time.

You  have  depression,

my aunt, a former counselor, said,

everything stilled, as I strained

to focus, and understand —

and the dark webbed mass above me

shifted minutely. A single light beamed

through a tiny pinhole

in my sky.

Celinda Olive is a poet residing in the Minneapolis area, and has her MFA in Creative Writing from Seattle Pacific University. She's had words previously in boats against the current, Fathom Mag, Pomme Journal, Rock & Sling, and more. When she's not laboring over her words, she's growing her brood of houseplants, searching for new K-dramas to devour, or exploring new places in the Twin Cities area.