for Marvin, Stephen, Betty, David, and Cindy 

        In every direction’s a creek,
and mosquitoes.  You stand on a promontory
above the lake, a Southern swamp
of drowned trees, and leap
        starkly naked out into space
grab hold of a knot on a rope,
and swing into that joy of recklessness,
a teenager in full flight, of flying
           down the bright, sharp-edged rock face,
leaving everything behind in a rush of fear
before you break free and begin to rise
without a care up into your own weightlessness
           where your body floats in a sky blue day
as you push away from the knotted rope,
and stop for a moment, going nowhere,
a moment when you have let go
           because you know how to begin the fall,
know how to slip into that slow motion roll
of a perfect dive, leave no splash at all, and
enter that soft wet mesh of forgetfulness.