Whiskers
Whiskers My wetsuit clings to my body, mermaid-scale-like, Core-selkie assimilating, I enter the clear waters off St Martin’s - I thought I'd feel cold, but this second skin’s absorbing my sensory fears, Maybe this is how they feel when they enter the water too? Their heads bob to the surface like curiosity-corks At ours doing likewise, As my daughters peer at our new-found pod from our Isles of Scilly rib. My mask on securely I lower my face into the turquoise-blue, Where Neptune’s other-worldly wonders Open out their depths to greet me, like his Salacia. Herein waves a vast, beautiful kelp-green shimmering forest. The mask feels alien now, like an octopus With suckers over my nose and mouth. A tube with which to breathe above the surface from below, bubbles - "Don't suck the water in" the instructor reminds us, "Keep your head above the water and gradually descend"; It is in this descent that freedom resides...