The Killers

Rhythmic breathing

in an alien world –

raucous bubbles respond to

the slow whisper of exhalation. 

Above and below.

Earth and sea.

We lie beneath sixty feet of water,

clutching stone blocks

while silent killers

slide amongst us.

The sharks have come to feed.

Encased in a tunic of mail,

the dive master brandishes

chunks of frozen tuna.

The sharks’ eyes flash white,

and the slick stillness of their passage

erupts into violence.

They tear at the meat.

They snap at the diver’s hands.

And we lie still as death,

close enough to touch,

too near for escape.

The dive ends

and we drift toward the world of light.

Our world,

where we are the killers.

Kenneth D. Reimer