Dive

Dive “So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern, Along the empty alley, into the box circle, To look down into the drained pool.” T. S. Eliot You wander from the embankment. The walls rise, framing what happened between the embankment and the well. Your fingers dig into the rail. Damp, circular opening at the end of the platform. With a quick movement, you jump into the basket. The chain squeaks, slowly you come down. As you swim out, your clothes wrap around you in the water. You're cold. You wake up with a glass of wine in your hand. You are sitting at the table, surrounded by a determined exchange of ideas. You take a big sip. You are back. A big stain on your clothes. Feeling dizzy, you are rubbing it under the tap. You stare in the mirror, and that is when you decide to stay.