Let Me Tell You about Love

I was seven and smitten
on the hottest day of summer.

He was on the opposite side of the pool.

I’d told my friend I liked him,
and from the top diving board
I back flipped. I knew it was good
and surfaced, treading water,
watching him watching me.

I saw my friend whisper.

His blue eyes narrowed
and he missiled towards me.
He was going to tell me
he liked me too.

Close to his eyes were cold.

He put one hand on my crown,
and pushed me under,
kept me there, his thumb
pressing my temple.

I could swim two lengths without breathing.

At first I thought he was teasing.
His clasp was steel.
If I struggled the grip tightened.

Mary Mulholland

If you have any comments on this poem,  Mary Mulholland  would be pleased to hear from you.