Pool Season

Ginny Threefoot
| poetry

 

Now, in swimsuits, ready for the public waters,
we float inside inflatable stars, starfish, airships,
false fins, easily deflated. Imagine what we are,
what we might be. Amphibious. Of multiple natures.
Second natures, thirds, and fourths, and weightless,
and absurd, and weightless absurdities, weightless,
and strangers. Promoting ourselves to statuses
of whales, of porpoises, like mermaids, like happy sailors,
in sun-glittering rhinestones, in open-mouthed delight.
The surface sparkles, and subaqueous, we rollick, swim,
we get on swimmingly. Someone above, a kid in a chair,
sharply whistles the unspoken rules. Everyone knows
the fear of drowning. Everyone knows Sharks and Minnows,
Marco Polo, learns the Butterfly, dives to recover plastic rings.
Pretend they’re gold, pretend it’s treasure we are diving for,
no strangers at the bottom—that place where we dissolve,
that place where we have tea together.

Ginny Threefoot’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Bennington Review, Ploughshares, Plume, Poetry Daily, VOLT, and West Branch, among others. Her work has been exhibited in collaboration with artist Anne Lindberg at Carrie Secrist Gallery, Haw Contemporary, and the Figge Art Museum.

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