The Maynard
Spring 2018

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Wet Parable

We know Jesus wasn’t
a fan of swimming. He walked
on the water instead. No pin drop plunge,
no giant bomb. I bet his ankles didn’t even
get wet. Give me a savior who swims
all the way, diving beneath the breakers,
darting like a fish, floating like a loaf—
items Jesus knew something about.
I don’t expect miracles, I want to keep fit
neck deep for as long as I can. Call me
Jonah if you like and pray for a whale.
Swallow me whole as your wet parable.
It’s how it must be, I must be to know,
somersaulting my cellular self, complete
inside the ocean’s cheek, underwater
in a drip-free world. If I have to be saved
try dog paddle, show me a good turtle
stroke, or force me to the surface
like a dolphin meal trapped in a net
of bubbles. I won’t resist in the pouring
course of each elegant towering wave,
drenched in a tank of testament beyond
a statement of belief. Jesus took Peter back
to the boat, asking ‘Why did you doubt?’
The disciple blubbered ‘My Lord!’ in reply.
Peter never could hold his breath.