Nine Deep

Nine Deep

Ian McClelland
2019-2020

The open gulf doesn’t care if I’m lost.
I wade, sunburnt amidst the salty 
embrace of her andante swell. Nurse
sharks drift through brown-green water. Shivers
glide across my skin. Mouths graze my chest.

I know I’m supposed to be panicked, 
but numbness drowns me when that white wave
beckons. The shivers greet me fondly.
Do they see the glass waves above?

I am set aback by her power
as a displaced sun sets. The coast hums 
to itself quietly. Delicate
vast water whispers, “now drink from me,” 
in her beautiful, shaking timbre.