May #1

When we go deep

I will change we to they.

Let the young and agile

do that caving thing

squeezing through

narrow clumps of rock

interring themselves in

the dark recesses

of my imagination.

I just have to shudder.

Then there are the divers.

At first writhing like fish,

later holding a spear

ahead of the face while

beginning to morph

into shark and octopus.

Heavier, dropping into

denser currents, hot water.

I take quick deep breaths.

There’s just too many depths

available on this planet.

You have to be truly committed

to plumb them, feel the fear,

act anyway, free-falling, sinking.

There is so much other pleasure

in skimming surfaces, dancing

like a dragonfly between

leaves, over river water.

Is my aversion past-driven?

Too many storms at sea,

midnight runs at gunpoint,

surgery, anaesthetised?

Luckily, memory is like

a skating rink: such grace

on thick ice! strung between

that frozen surface and

the furnace of the sun.

— Jennie Fraine