By Mallory Onarecker
The first time I went in spitting,
feral with indignation at the hidden price tag.
The pound of flesh required, the known life swallowed whole.
Enraged at those that went in tight-lipped,
inert like the piles of laundry they were destined to dunk.
Sneering and suspicious of those that went in with veneers grinning,
vindicated when they came up sputtering, hair and make-up mussed.
Second time I went through laughing,
hysterical with delirium at the inside joke.
Two pounds lighter but death twice cheated.
Giddy to be sopping wet and still breathing.
Third I came up sobbing,
Dumbfounded with sight.
Those three pounds, investments returning 7, 8, 6 fold.
These waters blushing to wine, a miracle at (tiny) hand.
This ain’t no drowning –
It’s a baptism.
Mallory Onarecker is an APRN in Surgery at UAMS.