Submarine

(Published in Dundee Writes 5 )

The warm ocean rolling by

hollers

like an old friend,

each wave minting silver

in the light.

I float along

the surge of a crest,

the low of a trough,

like a note

trembling

in a young throat.

I can see

the catch

content in its trap

splash gleefully

in mortality.

I have with me:

a periscope to see

and not be seen,
a key out of this dream
when I'm submarine.