you said “jump” in your mind


like a lead laden leaf, you fall;

skydiving initially, you risk drowning thereafter.


you pollute it when you

break its surface, holding

breath and closing eyes,


caught by a fraction of the

volume. a squint of high

stakes but still the sun floods,

floods all but you and the area directly



once adjusted you look to see

your feet dangle and dance

down in the blue. straddling oblivion;

treading water in a sideways

figure of eight.


who knows how many of

your bodies make up the depth.

you see it so it exists but it is nothing.

what does that make you then? lost in

mirrors and photographs.

you set your sights to a time signature

and can shoot if it gets too much.


your arms are spread,

you start counting down

– funny how a clock has

neither a start or finish, it just stops –

from ten. weightless, bobbing,

suspended above an abyss

(you lean and take a look)

your abyss, if you’ll have it.


Featured image courtesy of Sam Huddlestone