Glub, Glub


I tip backward off the boat,
press mask and regulator
to my face
then adjust to Caribbean
waters. Their clear
depths rise to me.

Scissoring my legs
to descend
among bright, flashing schools
who move as one,
I scan the reef.

Among the waving fans
and anemone, brain coral
rests, each a colony
of polyps extending
thin, translucent
tentacles at night
to trap

Their flesh is nibbled
by parrotfish,
multicolor splashes
whose teeth press together
into a sharp beak.

As the parrotfish
swim over the coral,
I remember
they are eaten
by black tip reef sharks,
eels and octopi.

The great circle of life—
a menu card.

I check my gauges
then begin slow rise
to the surface,
the world
where Chase MasterCard
and the IRS
have me for breakfast
lunch and dinner.


One thought on “Glub, Glub

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