Caught in a tank
with the chimes bristling above.
Slime hanging in the tension
that breaks bones.

Fair maid with a
stiletto pick.
Stop pressing, my dear.

In fear of looking up
anticipating two lungs capsized.
A plummeting vessel praying
through the facetious clouds.

Dawn takes over
and we refuse to stop.
Locked in embrace:
A false foot embedded
in the substrate.

Kelp explosions
holding us lightly,
grazing as we float
toward the surface.

Skeletons tangled in a mess
like that summer when you looked your best.

Take the last breath,
plunging the depths
to find at the bottom
a two-metre
tube worm.

Squirming as my lungs burst.
Post-partem.
Pre-historic.
Fleeting in the tunnel light
thats eaten up by its
benthic brother.