I strip off my clothes and dive in to the subnormal pond,
shivering and freezing in the water, my mother, my maker,
and swim. There are fantastic fish here,
huge and gold and whiskered,
and though the water is murky the lower I sink,
they shine all the while, a beckon or beacon of other things.
There is no bottom here, only a darker, muddy, dirtiness,
near which blind white mountain cave fish murmur,
sickeningly grotesque, pallid shapes that come too close
but do no harm.
Is there harm here? There must be, but not in the depths.
The warning comes treading water in the middle,
unsupported - insupportable, unpardonable, ready for the snatching.
Come take me! Here I am, weak and lonely, too far to
speed to shore and pull myself up. Too far.
Too far.
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