The Kelp-cutters

Ten years since I buried All the air I could, And followed you Down into the dark, Your breath shimmering Like stars on the kelp. Joe, when we broke through That last time and found The boat gone, the air So cold we lay there Not saying a word, Hand in hand, treading Until your warm grip went slack— Joe, I could do nothing But ride with the kelp Into dawn, rocking In the cold slate, Listening to myself pump The damp night full of breath.