Making of Myths, The

American Poetry Review, The, Jan/Feb 2004 by Bursky, Rick

The ocean drifted about their legs

as they put masks on their faces

and sucked air once or twice

more before disappearing into the water.

In the belly of the ocean,

what would they be doing?

Hunting lobsters for dinner

the people on the grass above the beach

might have answered if asked.

No one would have said the divers entered the ocean

to lose the memory of up and down

or so their sweat might salt the sea.

Later, we saw them walking across the sand,

masks slack around their necks,

large steel tanks pulling at their backs.

Among us again, the rubber fins were useless

and now only swayed from their hands.

Children filling lemonade bottles with sand

wanted them to stop and tell stories.

Not caring if they were true.

RICK BURSKY lives in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in many journals, including Iowa Review, Harvard Review, Verse, Quarterly West, and Shenandoah.