by Michelle Ortega

Michelle Ortega has been published at Tweetspeak Poetry, Tiferet Journal, Platform Review, Shot Glass Journal, Rust + Moth, Humana Obscura, Stillwater Review and elsewhere online and in print. When you Ask Me,”Why Paris” (chapbook, Finishing Line Press) is forthcoming July 2025. She serves on the Board of Directors at Arts By The People where she helps create and facilitate workshops for The Writing Lab, including the annual Ekphrastic Residency. michelleortegawrites.com

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Give the body time to off-gas what’s accumulated in the tissue at depth; hang  onto the anchor line at 15 feet, scan the dive site in wide-angle focus as you hover above, make faces at the dive buddy across from you, guffaw through the regulator, voice thunderous in your head; give yourself time to process what you’ve discovered, like the citrus salty chew of fresh conch salad, chopped at a roadside shack, or the ease you feel away from home, away from the constraints of so much expectation; inhale the memory of Bimini bread as you slog down the road to the marina each morning, quickening only with coffee and courage as you board the boat for the ride out to the reef; you are ready when it’s time, and you know it’s only one giant stride off the back of the boat; stop, because you were fathoms deep in the ocean’s belly, spectacular womb, neutrally buoyant in perfect balance of breath and substance, and a quick ascent can be deadly, the return to home life too jarring, too lacking in wilderness; look at the photos, write about the blue water and white sand and the inn where you slept, where Hemingway fished and wrote and also slept, dammit write about anything, write about everything so you don’t forget, so you don’t pack the gear in its bag and store it in the back of some closet for years, dive log dry and waiting; remember the sound of your thunder-voice, let it be the center of your universe, the very first voice you hear, then ascend.