Once I floated,
immersed in warm, aqueous jelly.
Currents held me plumb in this
liquid world, so when I walk
into the seducing sea which
envelopes my vulnerable skin
with the hunger of a lover, smoothly,
ardently, at once lifting & pressing––
as if I step through translucence,
as in a movie, where an entrance,
a gelatinous window, translates
the entrant to a different idiom––
I feel, as immersion grows,
an enticing, yet fearful, return.
Then as depth & press increase,
& lap of the surface rises to my neck,
then to my chin, & I feel my toes lift
from the touch of solid sand,
I have a palpable awareness:
I am not made for a liquid world,
& if I sink below the surface I will die.
Yet I am at once lightened, & can
shove against the sea’s salty aspic,
repel the constant pull & pressure,
so I move with the sea into a marvel
of its unremitting peristalsis, its wash
against gradient, shore & sea,
its devouring earthen grip.
Robert Eastwood is a retired teacher who lives in San Ramon, California. He is a graduate of California State University At Los Angeles and Saint Mary’s College. His work has appeared widely and most recently in The Dirty Napkin, Wild Goose Poetry Review, Full Of Crow, Legendary, Softblow, Up The Staircase Quarterly, Literary Yard, Kentucky Review, Bird’s Thumb, The Hartskill Review, Spry and Loch Raven Review. His chapbooks are The Welkin Gate, Over Plainsong, Night of the Moth, published by Small Poetry Press. His first book, Snare: Poems of Refuge and Revenge, is forthcoming from Broadstone Press. He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
© 2015, Robert Eastwood