(Magong Island, Penghu Archipelago, Taiwan)
I bubble words into the warm saltwater as though you will understand what seems so urgent to convey: see, a healthy reef would have dislodged that dusting of sediment weeping a haze through clear water, stifling flits of small fish as they breakfast on algae that hushes wave-rounded lava rock, broken traps, torn nets, skulls of hard corals. If I get the tones right, can you guess that I’m thanking you: I only noticed the prettiest fish because you squeezed my hand. Only saw the local celebrity lavender coral when you murmled appreciatively, nodded. Only followed the trio of neon blue fish thanks to you, then the school of pale yellow ones we hovered above, rocked by surf. Silent now to not scare them away, I pull you near the pair of puffers hiding amidst ropes. You’re better at choosing words decipherable around a snorkel, so you ‘dare or dare’ me to pick up a sea cucumber, bare fingered. They are the reef heroes, filtering the sea floor. I’m not so brave. ‘Tomorrow morning?’ I entreat, breach, gulping for beach air.