Bahia Honda, Key West

We’re snorkeling on a reef—choppy                water had almost canceled our trip.My son, eighteen, beautiful fish—

chest sprouting sleek hair                gangly god treading his futurewithout us. Flamboyant fish in their silent

                raucous confetti spray, and he                                  is pointing for me to seeand I am nodding vigorously

and pointing back                                  to make sure of something—love?—passing between us

till my snorkel clogs                                due to vigorous nodding.We do not stray far from the boat

or each other, though the dizzy current                                tries to drag us apart.We cannot name the many fish

but we can name each otherin that deep underwater silence                of the murmuring heart.

Oh, we tire, as we must, and flop over                back onto the boat for the long ride                                to the dock. Lord, I have never

been so tired and so awake, his cold shoulder                touching mine on the crowded boat                                his slight lean toward me,

then away. Last night in Key West, we passed                  the B&B where he was conceived                                and my wife told him.

TMI, he said immediately.                She could not help herself                                in sight of that single moment

of silent glistening. Today for two hours                   the world just water, breath, air.                                    We move our arms. We swim for it.