by Allen Guest

One could drown here if not careful.
I reach across our table, take your hand.
We drop below the surface,
watch the faces of dull
strangers blur above us.

I hear your breathing as we sink deeper,
gliding along the floor now,
flow together, weave our way
between tables and chairs,
around patrons ignorant
of our night swimming.
You pick a penny from
the floor, smile, hand it to me.

Yes, I will share
my thoughts with you,
down here, underwater,
where no one can hear us.
Our words travel so easily
in this new medium.

Allen Guest is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Mathematical Sciences at Clemson University, where he teach courses in the calculus sequence for science and engineering majors.  Relatively new to poetry and poetry writing, he tries to bring the exactness of mathematics to his poetry, and hopes the attempt will bring a certain clarity of image to his work.