I go down, down
black as a bracket against the sky
lowered in increments
down, down to the level below
wing-rail smooth, feather bent
under the eye of the clock
I fish for the flickers of light
filtering through the derelict Venetian blind,
seaweed and kelp,
wrack and ruin, home to the crabs
and crays, a cupboard of plenty
under the bow of the water carpet—
barnacled pipes and stone board sand.
I descend in graduations,
leaving a tide line
the whole wide home rocks and shocks
and ripples beneath
my dark throated landing
my shadow and slide
I ascend and ascend
and come out in a climb
