Next to the sandstone coping of the kidney pool
what matters in the strict perplexity of a young life's
only the ease of the settling-in, inside the now,
a good youth body with its supple skin and muscle,
the worry -- of not 'being here' -- a simple school abstract
or film plot, here laughed-off -- un-thought -- a mere omission,
the extant world, the one of hankering for another touch
so as to be one flesh by fleshing-in, concentrating on
the plunge, stroking backward through the womb of water.
Ah, those were the days...delicious last stanza...
ReplyDeleteIncredibly sensual!
ReplyDeleteas if to swim could be ... to be
ReplyDeleteluscious
Tess,
ReplyDeleteYou're right! Those were the days! Poolside -- so long as we're not dealing with public pools or 'pool parties' -- was the life.
Truly
Kim,
ReplyDeleteThere are likely more 'pool' or 'beach' poems in this blog. It's hard to recreate that body memory of drying water on the skin, the warming sun, the sunblock smell, etc. Very involving. Plus people were 'more naked' around each other.
Tfool
Isabel,
ReplyDeleteIt could be. At least for the time it is.
Thanks!
Trulyfool