The diver’s head then legs split the arms’ shaft
like aft oars breaking the stitched scars of the first
or an old junkie fearing detection, having to go deeper
until too scared to open his eyes let alone look up
he wrestles bubbles at the bottom.
Miming death he rises into brightness,
bruising not breaking the skin,
part of the mirror until he feels again
the edge he longed for, smoother than alcohol,
concave and clinging to the steep sides.
Tim Love’s publications are a poetry pamphlet “Moving Parts” (HappenStance) and a story collection “By all means” (Nine Arches Press). He lives in Cambridge, UK. His poetry and prose have appeared in Stand, Rialto, Magma, Unthology, etc. He blogs at