“Diving into the Wreck” begins with the speaker describing her preparations for diving; not only has she checked for her knife and prepared her camera, but she has “read the book of myths” (Line 1). Rich establishes that her speaker is well-versed in the socio-cultural context of the world. She is both pragmatic and well -read, and has a clear understanding of her patriarchal world and how the “book of myths” describes it. She does not believe that the book of myths has provided a complete picture of the world, and her intent to dive demonstrates a desire to learn more and to find the complete truth of the wreck, rather than what the book has opted to tell her.

Rich describes the careful lengths the speaker must go through before diving, referring to her scuba suit as “body-armor of black rubber” (Line 5) and noting her flippers as “absurd” (Line 6) and the scuba mask as “grave and awkward” (Line 7). Her task is both dangerous and uncomfortable, but she prepares for and accepts it nonetheless. She immediately places herself in contrast to other male explorers like Jacques Cousteau, who have an “assiduous team” (10). Her purpose is different, and she must complete her dive alone.

Above the water, the speaker is on a “sun-flooded schooner” (Line 11), but in order to explore the wreck below, she must proceed down the ladder, which is “always there” (Line 14) on the side of the boat. The speaker is descending from the contemporary world, driven by male power and desire, into the depths of the ocean, and to get there, she must use the ladder. She notes that “We know what it is for, / we who have used it” (Lines 17-18). Access to the wreck is accessible for those who want it; the truth it provides is not far away but merely down the ladder that hands like “a piece of maritime floss” (Line 20).

The speaker’s descent is painful, confusing, and otherworldly. She says, “I go down. / My flippers cripple me, / I craw like an insect down the ladder / and there is no one / to tell me when the ocean will begin” (Lines 29-33). Again, she emphasizes her solitude, noting that she must be her own guide as she slips into the ocean. Her progress feels unnatural to her, as the flippers on her feet hinder her progress, and she becomes insect-like as she proceeds into the sea, having to give up the comforts of the above-world, sacrificing in order to access the truth below.

As the speaker enters the ocean, she experiences a moment of panic before realizing her own capacity and strength: “First the air is blue and then / it is bluer and then green and then / black I am blacking out and yet / my mask is powerful / it pumps my blood with power” (Lines 34-38). The speaker has prepared appropriately, and the “awkward mask” (Line 7) provides her with what she needs, giving her access to the power she is capable of wielding. She describes the strangeness of being in the sea, which is “another story” (Line 39), and different than her experience on land; she must learn new ways of navigating it, understanding how “to turn my body without force / in the deep element” (Lines 42-43).

The more the speaker becomes immersed in the underwater world, the more she must strive for focus. She observes all the other creatures who are present, distracted by their beauty and by her need to understand how to move with them below the water. She claims that “you breathe differently down here” (Line 51), acknowledging the work and effort her exploration takes and alluding to the ways in which this kind of exploration forces a person to alter themselves in the quest for truth.

In the sixth stanza, the speaker articulates plainly her purpose: “I came to explore the wreck” (Line 52), allowing the reader to infer the wider implications of the metaphor. The wreck operates on multiple levels, representing myriad issues, from the speaker’s personal struggles and need for inner exploration, to a representation of the destructive powers of a patriarchal society and the need for reexamination and reckoning from a female lens. The speaker notes that “words are maps” (Line 54), implying that language and story has driven her to this place, but those words are no match for the experience of seeing the wreck in person.

The wreck is a complicated thing, and the speaker understands this: “I came to see the damage that was done / and the treasures that prevail” (Lines 55-56). She knows that the incomplete stories that exist in the book of myths have done some of this damage to the world, and to history, but that something good and worthwhile still exists within the wreck; both the damage and the treasures as lasting, “more permanent / than fish or weed” (Lines 59-60) and deserve thoughtful exploration.

The speaker further elucidates what she wants to get out of the experience: “the thing I came for: / the wreck and not the story of the wreck / the thing itself and not the myth” (Lines 61-63). She must experience the truth first-hand, not translated through the words in the book of myths, in order to understand both her world and her role in it. She wants the unmitigated truth, not what the few writers of the book chose to give to her. She describes the “threadbare beauty” (Line 67) that still exists within the wreck and the “ribs of the disaster / curing their assertion” (Lines 68-69), alluding to the power the wreck still holds despite its diminished state.

The speaker manifests androgyny as she faces the wreck, embodying both male and female genders: “I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair / streams black, the merman in his armored body / We circle silently / about the wreck / we dive into the hold. / I am she: I am he” (Lines 71-77). The speaker’s response to her struggles under the patriarchy is to unify the genders and attempt to embody and thus empathize with both, creating a communal experience where both have access to the truth the wreck offers. Even though these people melded together have been forgotten and “left to rot” (Line 82) with the wreck, they maintain the capacity to explore and discover the truth.

In the final stanza Rich writes, “We are, I am, you are / by cowardice or courage / the one who find our way / back to the scene / carrying a knife, a camera / a book of myths / in which / our names do not appear” (Lines 87-94). She implies that the exploratory experience has given the speaker a new understanding of her tools and the book and new access to the stories that do not appear with the other myths. Rich reiterates that the book of myths that humans have is only partially complete, missing the stories of many other voices; only the vulnerable process of seeing out “the thing and not the myth” (Line 63) can provide a more honest understanding of the world.