The Tattooed Diver

The brass bell
at the end of the dock
announces his coming.
Hood pushed back
his yellow slicker hangs
open to the kiss of rain
sprawling its spongy arms
across the island.

She stands on the porch
wearing a long red skirt
and a shy smile
a little embarrassed
with no underwear, but
it’s too late to go back
and she’s too curious
now to care.

What is it he carries
in his outstretched hands?
Funny, she doesn’t see
the shiny wet snappers
the inevitable feast
that will fill their plates
for many nights.