Further Down

To reach below
turquoise waves and snapping teeth
you took it into you

You eat breath, hungry
like a singer

Moving all the way down
in long strokes

away from rum punch refills
and sweating deck chairs

toward spiked coral faces—
in the opposite direction
from oxygen

while I hover
above the sunken algaed roof

waiting
until you reappear from the dead

I see you
witness the flush of silver fish—

three thousand needles
sewing ocean and light
together—this is how we see

and a dive
down into blue

almost night—

we are worlds

within worlds
and for years I will be learning this


Fran Westwood is a poet, therapist, mom and gardener of settler background living and working in Guelph, Ontario.

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