At the Y

September 11, 2001

Watching from the lifeguard chair,
I see caps contain their ponytails—
not their exuberance—as noses
clipped by rubber, they slip
from the pool deck into liquid music:
cygnets winging low on/in/under water.

Treading side by side, they dance,
smile playfully slap the water,
lay out—legs splayed, arms fluttering—
become a momentary water lily,
then snap shut like an oyster,
submerging fingers to toes.

Seconds later two right legs thrust up
from the water—pointed ballet toes
like swans looking heavenward—
rotate in complete circles, finally
sink in slow motion out of sight.


[First published in CaKe, Vol. 2, 2008.]