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Monday, September 14, 2009

The Swimming Pool at Night

Until morning, I thought, there is no water.
There is water. There are spiders
and sticking plasters, the flaked skin

of verrucas shed and to come,
and the chlorine haze of a light-sleeping
swimmer turning over miles away

in search of the perfect stroke,
of the far window of blue over midnight’s
last, gulped deep breath

bubbling slowly towards dawn.

1 comment:

Jon said...

can feel the texture of the deck... the word verruca... just right