From my view, the sky looked like the sea,
a vast expanse of clear blue
pocked with powdery clouds
like the frothy waves breaking on the
Caribbean’s crystalline surface.
As I fell, the sky grew larger,
wrapping around the corners of my eyes to my back.
I didn’t have to see the waiting water to feel it
begin to swallow me in soft, foamy sheets.
It’s said you see flashes of your life
in that second before
you die. Maybe I was too young
to have those unforgettable memories, or
maybe I knew the tour guide, whose dreads cascaded
down his shoulders like the surging
waterfall from which I slipped,
would catch my harness.
But all I could see was the sky and the clouds.
And it made me wonder
how soft the water must be?