We Had a Snorkel

My dad and me, two souls

wavering over the warm blue skin of the hawaiian sea

over tight packs

of coral, castles sharp

and alive

while the toys of bright pacific fish turned

and turned

Our flippers splished

I trembled over waves

and I gripped my snorkel upright but

my goggles fogged

blind pain stung red my inner ear

both fun and fish receded

and the coral loomed up to scrape me

and I grew afraid and lost

the simple pleasure til I floundered

back to shore

"you like it, Ani?" daddy asked, after an hour

"yes, I did," I said, reflecting, dry.

For real. For it felt fresh to fear that way,

to be unsure and bluely worried

to panic like a fish.