200 Ft.

The icy blue water beckoned, mystic answers
beneath pointed caps and indigo camouflage
our dive suits shiny in the wilting sun
and wind on my ears and her gaze in my eyes.

Snapped zipped and molded in
my headfirst drop returns bubbles and cloudbursts
a searing frontal assault, a maze of blues and greens
as the dive meter sputters into service with our dissenting descent.

The rhythm of our hands whirring through the clear dark,
reaching for one another, colors that defy description
a collection of moments and our air is above and below
and we are buoyed by our smiles and the salt, her eyes
catching mine and holding me still as I shrink and rise
behind a wet suit and the horizon meeting the sky
and the hum of a boat motor anchoring my body
and filling my mind, leaving my heart and my hands
elsewhere.