Flat Dive

The sign at the baths forbids any dive
but this, the graphic shows this shape: a man-
he's flat. I add the air he travels through,
the surface he will break when he dives in.

To me, he's you - the line of back, the flow
from thigh to calf, the straightened feet - it's you
in sleep, the shoulder, elbow, forearm stretched.
I'm treading water, looking, even here
have you in my head - the deep cortex floods.

Sometimes I see exactly how it is
there's you and me apart and hand in hand
like two fresh kids in a fairytale who
venture into forests - nothing, no harm
will come to them because they are so good.

Floating on my back I am the bubble
in the spirit level, only its you
who makes the balance. I strike out, climb up
water warmed by me runs down, I stand
and water churned with movement starts to still.

You're the horizon if I can't see I'm sick,
the liquid in me out of kilter
through the membrane of my ears, the thinning
of the difference to just a film of cells.

Is this where I let you in? Just maybe
one quiet breath or sometimes words. I dive.