Wade, don't swim. It'll be too much. She'll be cold like ice you've never experienced, but in time, you'll numb--first your feet, then the rest of you.
(Except for your ankles--your ankles will be last, strangely enough. Don't worry about this--she's a bitch.)
There will probably be wind. Be prepared. It'll feel like a slap, but you'll stand there with her ice at her feet and her breath on your face. You might cry. But know that the sailor's wife cries not because her sailor is leaving but because he has chosen someone else over her--again, again, and again. For you, my dear, the agains are finite.
This sailor is a player.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I like the personification of the sea as a former mistress of the sailor (and the implications that has on his sailing) as well as the idea of his former wife confronting her/it. The last line has a finality that suggests that she drowned herself and while this would mean that he never cheats on her again, "the agains are finite," I don't understand her character enough to where the second person works for me.