Communal Mermaids

The muffled sounds,
how coming up 
is like coming into
heaven. A ring of watered-down
light handed over from
Poseidon.

I jump through this hoop 
like dolphins, touch down 
again in blurs.
That smell of communal
bodies.
The feel of a Roman bath house.

We are home, 
12 feet of deep blue,
blowing bubbles
to speak,
and descend.

Encapsulated in
humidity,
the world a lap
pool, healthy with 
chlorine. 
Breathing and rolling
with the kicks
of our long legs,
longing to be 
translucent fins.

Eyes open
and blind 
titanic lights
in the distance,
the glimmer of
depth.

 Home, from
whence we came.
Grew our legs,
left magic in our
wake.