BEFORE THE LEAP
With August drawing to a close,
the bath attendant locked the cubicles,
biked whistling off into September.
So no one was around when I
stepped out onto the board. I was
blindfolded like a deserter.
These are the steps up dread tread dread.
On the high board of the Outdoor Baths
one flirts with the frisson of fear.
The sun was just as low as I and was
about to slowly sink into the ground.
Who had transported me aloft?
Oh dear love. And I knew: tomorrow
I will wake but no escape for me is
possible. From the highdive-dream
one wakes up with the highdive-dream.
I knew: it seems I’m going to go ahead.
The last small moves. I stand precisely
at the height required to feel afraid.
This is the right intended distance to
the loop-looming water, baptismal-soft.
It’s always lain in wait for me –
so why abruptly do I fear the pool
as if it rapidly has drained away?
What if I dived like that – I do, I do –
I were to fall and nothing catch me?