Creating, Feeling

High Dive, a poem

April 22, 2015

We have to stand in a place, at times
that feels as uncomfortable as standing on top of a high dive
one piece bathing suit, gangly legs,
swim cap stuck on tight over French-braided hair.

How could you not love this world?

This scene, the collective crowd hushed and waiting
for the ding of a count-down
for the arms raised knees bent whip of a body soaring
and falling 10, 20, 30 feet
the knife slit entering of body into water
like a fish so slick and serene
the sting of chlorinated air in your nose
as you remember
to inhale again

**Draft written during a Wild Writing session with Nina and Sherry.

Also, this song is now playing through my head non-stop:

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