My Correspondence With Angels And Demons

I drowned once, you know?
I was a sandy blond child in the muddy waters of Georgia
The tobacco cut knife had been put down for the day
Sticky with nicotine sap coating its curved blade
The men and women had come in from the fields
In from the sea of green leaves roasting in the southern sun
The workers gathered their families
Around the irrigation pit 
To relax
To swim
Somehow
Someway
I found myself falling in
My seven years of living did not include learning how to swim  
Not even tread wate...