Learning to Swim
I learned to swim at the beach
splashing in the shallows,
until one day I floated, leapt
on the back of a wave, riding
that barrel all the way, paddling
and kicking in the glittering sea
where I grew gills and dove deep,
rubbing my scales on the rough sand floor.
In the Living Room
Painting of a woman with bare breasts
holding a basket filled with fruit,
and Chinese prints: muscular horse
galloping on a river bank,
old man playing a flute, two golden
birds perched on a silver branch
as outside in the darkness ambulances
shriek up the street, then turn, wailing into night.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Steve Klepetar
would be pleased to hear them.