Cliff Diving

Picture of a flowery meadow sloping into a water body

You, leaping from the limestone bluffs of Pueblo Reservoir,
are suspended a moment
with the pelicans, white K-Swiss laces fluttering, red life vest
bright as Mars in the elated air. This moment, yours as much as mine,
collides with the surface. Memory
it seems, is inseparable as water,

indistinguishable. Always there and yet never
the same, always
the slipping glint of a fish tail reflecting the sun.

Your wife believes that she took you, an urn of your ash,
to California. Yet,
here you are, bobbing up from the bluegill depths

laughing the lake shale loose

BY Amber Adams

Amber Adams is a poet and counselor living in Boulder, Colorado. She received her MA in Literary Studies from the University of Denver, and her MA in Counseling from Regis University. Her work has appeared in Birmingham Poetry Review, Narrative, War Literature and the Arts Journal, Stone Canoe Journal, and elsewhere. She served in the United States Army Reserves and completed one tour of duty under Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Cliff Diving

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