How to Escape from Quicksand

When walking in quicksand country
carry a stout pole--
something long and pithy with a twist.
It will help you get out should you need to.

It's just ordinary sand
mixed with upwelling water--
water that wells up
the way tears do.

Don't struggle against it.
Its viscosity increases with shearing.
Instead, open your arms
as if to embrace an old enemy,

one who should have been a friend,
one who will not let go easily
should you try and pull away now.

Remember, pulling away
means working against the vacuum
left behind. If you open
you have nothing to fear. You'll float.

Floating means only
remembering that you're human.
Humans are buoyant and so
is a stout wooden pole--

so lay it down on the surface
and flop onto your back on top of it,
working it under your hips at right angles
to your spine. See, it keeps you from sinking

as you lift out first one leg, and then the other.
Take the shortest route to firmer ground.
r-kv-r-y quarterly fall 2004 archive
How to Escape from Quicksand is by poet Paul Hostovsky whose work has
appeared in many magazines and anthologies, including most recently: Voices
from the Robert Frost Place, Poetry East, The Atlanta Review, The Comstock
Review, The Lilliput Review, Rhino, and Slant. He lives in Boston where he
works as an interpreter for the Deaf.
Links for More Fall 2004 Poetry

Victoria Pynchon
Joseph Mockus
Joel Deutsch
Sara-Anne Beaulieu
Felicia Mitchell
Maureen Tolman Flannery