David Jones

Greeting

The deck tilts, a sudden lurch and the world becomes salt and sky. You don’t remember the moment you went over, only the cold that takes your breath and the sharp, bright pain of water filling your lungs. For a long, ragged second you think you will drown; then instinct takes over: arms, legs, a frantic, blind stroke toward the surface. Air rips into you like a new world. The moon is a pale coin above the black teeth of the waves. Your chest burns.