Cave Dive, by Joe Dunthorne

He remembers being six

Lying on his back beneath a kitchen chair

Gazing up at his father’s unmapped nostrils

His mother’s skirt riffling past like a spotted eagle ray

Underneath the dining table

He found pencil marks: a quarter circle and two words underscored

Possible extension

Back then it was a code or perhaps a solution to a code

On the cave bed

It takes a blue whale’s long blink

To fathom what one plus one turns into

The sky peers down from blue-green slots like the lamp fittings of his youth

His slow mind thinks time is just another surface he can pass through

The swirling halocline that keeps us from our pasts:

The fresh and the preserved

Back in his father’s study, pouring a bag of marbles across the rug

In the glow from the tentacled lampshade

He holds up his Bosser, sees himself swimming in its spiral reef

Letting drift his aqualung

He is either young or drunk

From his lips he scatters balls of glass

From this, you can see how ACTIVE the imagination of a child can be, and this poet wrote with such lively imagery too, didn’t he?  And, with the shattering of the fish tank, comes the reality of how he realized, that he can’t always dream, that he must live in the reality of things, and that, is the cruel part about growing up…

Leave a comment

Filed under Childhood, Concepts in Psychology, Life, Perspectives, Properties of Life, Story-Telling

Say What You Want to...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.