Down, where your questions mirror mine
but we can never reach, there is more to say about time
diminishing as we get close, in my oxygen universe.
Cold blue blur and labored breathing.
I briefly shimmered, light diffusing.
How are we to be? If I dragged you down and down,
into deep-sea serenity, love would not be coastal.
History shivers along at a thousand meters
with its tailfins and soul-seeking dinosaurs.
We are peculiar rhythm in this scuba galaxy,
all dark dreams below waves that always crumble.
It is not enough to see the edges of eternity.
We dive recklessly for stingrays, swordfish, anemones.
Down and down, where the question is pure belief
not clarity, I bring you to this rendezvous with me.
I reach my hand into sun-shattering darkness, then pull it free.
Copyright © 2018 Diane Mehta
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.