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.

Steve Klepetar
 

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Steve Klepetar  would be pleased to hear them.