It is the whole sea, a living cell,
or heaven I am passing over, loose as a fish.
I feel beautiful among the grasses,
the filefish and wrasses, drawing upper air
into my watery body, air that lets me live
and look at the moon’s floor, eye coins,
and mossy conch castles.
From above I am quite ridiculous,
trucking around in shallows,
large, unwanted, overly white,
rigged with a child’s plastic gear.
If I think about my real weight
and the world’s weight,
it is deadly as breathing water.
by Suzanne Rhodes