High Dive
Carefully placing one hand after the other, I make it to the top.
I tug and adjust in all the right places and am ready to go again.
A confidence sweeps over me as I walk to the edge
pausing only to search the swarm of sunbathers for your eyes.
Crouching down, springing up, pushing off
and sliding seamlessly into the cool water
I push all the air out of me.
Decending brings a calmness quickly turned into anxiety.
I am never sure I can make it back to the surface
but the air comes faster to me every time.
Walking back to the the car your hand squeezes my shoulder.
My hair smells faintly of chlorine
and we recount the perfectness of the day.
I don't realize this is the last summer I will do this.
The last summer free of self-consciousness
When girls are girls and boys are boys
and there really isn't any difference.
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2 comments:
Such detail you bring to this poem. I can see it. I am there.
I'm glad there are a few of us doing this. Keep it up.
This is an especially good one, the imagery is great, it's tactile, and it's emotional. Primo stuff girl.
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