High Dive
a poem about making a high dive
You stop right at the edge of the board, your toes taking
in the sharp edge. You stop and breathe, let your heart
measure out its beating. All around you
is the clear blue of sky, the glass of water beckoning.
You know how it will feel, all that water opening
for you, letting your body arc like a strange beautiful
animal gliding silver amid blue.
Inside there is always a moment
before you open your eyes, suspended beyond
gravity and desire, when you consider
remaining in the darkness of yourself,
weigh the advantages of never
returning to the surface.
But then your wrists and palms curve upward
as if in prayer, leading your body back to break
through the surface, to the surprising air
cutting clean into your lungs.
__________
Copyright 2009 Marguerite Floyd all rights reserved
This poem first appeared in Everyone’s Daughter, 2009
