Later, you would ask me to marry you. After we began our ascent, could see the sun shifting over us at the mouth of the cave. I would never tell you what happened in the last chamber as your air tanks disappeared in the dust. How strange it was watching you swim above me. How for an instant in the darkness there were no memories, no body. The guide line pulling me. How, like an ancient fish come up from the deep, I could not see. Did not want to see.

CASSIE SCHMITZ is from Tallahassee, FL. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Mid-American Review, Cimarron Review, DIAGRAM, Salamander, and elsewhere. She lives in Boston, MA, where she received her MFA from Boston University and currently works for a biomaterials engineering lab.