Taking the plunge

The boy in the photo hangs above the Atlantic
like a drop of rain from the edge of a leaf,
paused in mid-air between diving board and water
on tiptoe, arms spread,
like a dancer, balanced between this moment and the next.
He seems to delay, motionless,
where delay is forbidden,
where what's permitted is a plunge from past to future,
the now a rush of sky, waves and shouts of friends.
A camera clicks, he does not hear.
One day he will look at the picture and declare:
That's odd, I don't remember a thing.
Perhaps that dot in mid fall
was not me at all.

Published, 2000, in canwehaveourballback.com, issue 4 (Website no longer exists in original form).