The last trainees are climbing the diving tower
As slowly as they dare, their fingers trembling
On the wet rungs. Bare feet reluctantly
Going one step higher, one more, too far
Above the water waiting to take them in

They stand on top. Knees slightly buckled, nowhere
To put their hands, all suddenly thinking how
Good it's always been to be braced up
Buy something, anything, but ready to be let down
By their loud instructor thirty feet below.

They are the last ones learning how to jump
Feet-first into the swimming pool, to windward
From an imagined ship (in case of drift or fire),
Their ankles crossed, their loose life jackets held
Down with one hand, their noses pinched with the other.

They pause at the edge. Only one second away
From their unsupported arches, the surface glitters,
Looking too solid, to jagged and broken,
A place strictly for sinking, no place to go.
Each has his last split-second second thoughts.

Others are treading water, hooting and whistling
Abandon Ship and General Alarm,
But these stare toward the emptiest of horizons.
Upright, blue-lipped, no longer breathing, already
Drowned, they commit their bodies to the deep.