Yellow tang, blue parrotfish, spotted puffers — some ballooned, some flaccid — hundreds of silver trumpets, pendulous wrasse. The water is clear, then, as it deepens, murkier, coral architecture mottled dark & light. Round one outcrop glides a snake, ghostly white floater. It turns from my shadow, sinks to a rubbled perimeter, threads into a dark place. No interest in me at all, yet I panic. My flippered kicks propel me back to the beach. I unstick my mask, wrench my feet free, reach for a towel, cower in a chilly offshore breeze. What’s the smell of a snake coiled in salt water? Out of flickering sea a knob rises, cracks open to suck down air. Why would a life move & hunt & breed in one atmosphere & breathe another? The long peregrinations, poised ascents, brief inhales.