We looked so carefree and happy, and
No one was allowed to know that we were not.
We maintained the requisite image — laughing and waving.
No one saved us from the black waters underneath; but
We saved ourselves. And we are no longer drowning.

A Golden Shovel poem, based on the line “and not waving but drowning” from the Stevie Smith poem, “Not Waving But Drowning”.

*Volta — the turn at the end of the poem that marks a dramatic shift in tone

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