Touch. Yes. No. There. Wait.
Notice the swarming outside our submersible?

Eelpouts and tube worms, gelatin shrimp.
We’ve drifted to a cold seep or a sea-mount,
some sort of rift.
Those extremophiles
are the only reason we have light.

How exposed we are now.
I see you, the form of you,
hairs on you, the way you arch and crook
I see you looking.
What you look at, tongue and touch.

Primordial waters gush here,
at the escarpment, at the Marianas.

You within me within you.
Together we bottom-dwell,
feeding and spawning with other organisms.
Together we
touch, yes, no, there, wait—

Something is off.
I fear I am alone down here.