Amanda rented in Newcastle a submarine, green

that had clear domes to see the anemones

the stingrays, the clown fish.

She filled it with one long French toast scent

before submersible sank from air

to creak down bubble rushes. Then

holding sterling silver splade and porcelain blue plate

while dressed in slightly stretch black satin vionnet

she sat on single thin red-cushion square

inside her boat bow glass observatory

washed by sea glazed refractions

Amanda smelt fried egg-bread

tasted serrated sugar portions

explored, through deep aqua sunbeams

the predators glide

the sharp reef, the seaweed lines.