saturn in pisces: intentional drowning

if this is what it means to lay down the law
i would rather lay down my life
on the quiet shores of this bathtub
naked and opposing the lithe
and carefree veil
that nearly keeps me blinded.
i would rather fasten myself to an anchor
and let it drag me through the miserable drain
where all things go, through that hollow
body the spirit of water curses,
and find myself in the ocean of my creator’s home.

maybe, back on earth, some beautiful man
will knock down the door and shield my body
long after my family’s blinded eyes remember
their last vision of me.
in spirit, god will carry me to my last breath and
look at that incomprehensible flesh and say
kid, you had no idea.
you’d only just learned what the true
weight of the world is —
maybe, by some magic, he will skim the fat
and tumble my bones on low, delicate
for the method, for the art, for the lives i’ve lived,
and resurrect me as he did Christ.
they say He was born under the age of pisces,
the time when two fish were joined by a silver cord.
i think of Him often, i do.

and when saturn returns over my south node,
no one will be any the wiser about the way the stars
clung to my weaknesses and expanded them into breathlessness.
the door will return to its hinges, the call will be undone.
maybe then, upon re-entrance to this flesh
i will remember the thrill and rush of life again — 
i will not harbor the grief, my god.

maybe if i become the anchor i will never drown.