D H Jenkins, Wanaka, New Zealand
A six foot long white tipped reef shark,
tail twisting side to side, searching for
prey, swims along the reef;
above, the halo eye around the sun
leads us to believe heavy weather comes,
so we descend quickly, equalizing
pressure as we go,
following the dark shape along the reef.
Current pushes against us as we flatten
atop the sand under the vortex of water
like air pouring off a wing;
then after fifteen minutes of finning,
we pop up in front of a giant cabbage
patch of yellow coral, its leaves longer
than our bodies, spreading forever—
lustrous golden sunken treasure.
Like in Alice's wonderland we are
taken back to childhood, and in our
masks we glimpse the eternal play
of parrot fish, turtles, stingrays,
thru ancient eyes of innocence.
And our air bubbles rise up to the sun
like champagne in a crystal glass.
A gray reef shark appears grinning,
its moon mad teeth sparkling bright
as it swims away from us aliens,
swishes its tail and is gone.
We surface in the open water, sighting the
dive boat, which motors over, lightning
flickering in the distance.
As we lever our gear aboard and crawl
out of the ocean we call out our dive figures:
“Air, 50 bar”; “bottom time, 45 minutes”;
“maximum depth, the Pleistocene”.
D. H. Jenkins’ plays have been staged in California, Arizona, Australia, and Japan. His poems appear in the art films Call From a Distant Shore and Our Autumn, and in The Tiger Moth Review and Jerry Jazz Musician. He lives in Wanaka, New Zealand.