I want to dream
of being afraid of the deep end
of the ocean,
right off the cliff
of the land I know.
I want to dream
of moving through waters
with each move of my brow and neck,
rather than by pecarious balance
of feet.
I want to dream
of gasping for thin human air,
because I had gotten
too use to the cool silk
of wet breathing.
I want to dream
of being more than two legs,
and locked by gravity.
Rather I’ll dance
to my own bubbles.
I want to dream
of all the rippled, glassy wonders
far beneath the waves.
Because I had never cared
for mermaids.
But I want to.
Author T.S. Lowe 