He Wants to Let Himself Go

She shows him how to throw down enough frozen peas
for the stoplight parrotfish and yellowtail snappers
to swim between his legs and nibble
when he goes too far she pulls him inland
wants him to walk heavily, steadfastly
afraid of the ledge

but he likes the overhanging face of rock
walks to it dangling one foot over the abyss
likes the rush of adrenaline when he almost falls
loves to catch himself at the very last second
feels alive, feels light, wants one day to drop
from the coral-cliff edge to the bottom
where lobsters crawl in and out of small holes
to the bluing rhythm of giant sea turtle shadows

wants to go where the green moray eel goes
remain still and quiet when the big stingray
slides straight to and over his face
and slurps through his hair in its squid search
he wants to let himself go until he thinks he is drowning
but isn’t

she has told him how the mystic swims
in the same waters in which the psychotic drowns
but he knows more, knows that when he can reach the eel
it will offer itself like a rescue rope

she doesn’t tell him the rest, how she will either die or go mad
when he goes so deep, deeper than deep, enough
until he can see it is not an eel, nor a rope
offered by her to reel him back up, but a hand
hanging weightless in the warm water
there for him to do whatever he asks, a hand
that eventually he will recognize
as his own.

"He Wants to Let Himself Go" was previously published in Half Tones to Jubilee

Copyright 2006 by Eileen Malone