The poem features an extended metaphor, comparing the living of life to swimming in the ocean, dramatized in four versagraphs.
First Versagraph: “Eventually each of us”
Referring to all of humanity in the third person, “Eventually each of us / will tell a story,” the speaker makes the claim that at some point all humans are bound to recount a sorry tale of woe and of being overwhelmed with life’s tribulations. Then switching to second person: “the way you never / know what's in deeper water.” She compares that way-out feeling to the swimmer out at sea.
The speaker is metaphorically comparing the uncertainties of life to the uncertainties of what creatures may be swimming along with or underneath the ocean-swimmer.
Second Versagraph: “You know you are a fool”
The speaker then says, “You know you are a fool / for having come this far.” This assertion indicates that the ocean-swimmer has swum out too far, which becomes a symbol for other foolhardy endeavors the person might choose, for example, mountain climbing, auto-racing, or even travelling to foreign nations where one might encounter irreconcilable customs.
The lines, “You know you could never / swim fast enough,” works for both parts of the metaphor. If a sea creature is coming after the ocean-swimmer, he might not be able to outpace it, and in life, if one bite’s off more than one can chew, one might find it difficult to swallow.
The image of the heart in the mouth has the speaker transforming the heart into a “holy tablet / of salt.” The heart-in-the-mouth, of course, demonstrates the extreme fear that has gripped the swimmer.
That the speaker labels the tablet holy is a stunning contradiction, for the fear dramatized in this poem indicates that the principals are sadly without a religious or spiritual base. The purpose of any religious or spiritual pursuit is to eliminate the floundering-out-at-sea fear that is here portrayed so graphically.
Third Versagraph: “In the end, it is”
The speaker then drops the tortured scenario claiming that all that fear was invested for “a drifting body / of wood. Or a dolphin.” The angst turns out to be caused by innocuous entities. The swimmer, however, is able to identify these objects only upon reaching them, despite his fear.
Fourth Versagraph: “But what we own”
Despite the fact that humanity’s fear has been mollified by the brief encounter with wood-and-dolphin innocuity, individuals are left “own[ing]” their undiminished fear. The speaker emphasizes that claim as “beyond a shadow / of a doubt.” The fear “of being eaten / alive, torn apart” remains because the swimmer, representing humanity, is still out there “in depths.” The ironic mystery of the situation is that they have “entered / willingly.”
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