I met the god of the Halfway Down 

at Linden Giersdorf’s pool party 

On the surface, we shook hands — 

below we took our tea. 

I drank it like a rock and 

when my chest began to burn, I asked 

will you return? Floating up, I paused when he smiled 

crooked teeth like shards of milk 

We’ll meet again, I’m sure, he said. Till then —

We met again you know, during practice

back when Tommy Nettleton

tried to punch a hole in my throat

I cough and spat and sputtered. There

somewhere between under and above, 

the grinning god of the Halfway Down.

He wrapped his wings around me, 

as he sank me to the Halfway Down

but Tommy pulled me free,

so the god and I stayed in touch.

Once when I held my breath,

again as I felt my ears spark,

I see his glower in the shower,

and every time I imagined my death. There

like a proper thunderbolt, 

is the grinning god of the Halfway Down

My little brother, Patrick, met him too.  

They did not speak; I doubt he knew.

But Lochland lay in Big Blue Lake, 

the grinning god wrapped around him, like a snake.

Patrick could not pull him free,

the grinning god is greedy, you see.

He is the god of floaters and drifters,

the lonely and brokenhearted.

The god of the damned drowned

or else the peacefully departed

I feel him at my feet and ankles

scratching my soles like an anchor, 

now every time I dive into the sea

it’s that grinning god I loathe to meet.