Swimming lesson
Wave after wave of sound without origin:
Speech without speaker, shriek without peril,
splash without body, lapping overflow.
The teacher’s voice falls short.
I watch other parents to copy
the correct way to manhandle my child.
We chant in vain against the din:
our singing swells and crashes
against the surging songs of others.
I’m caught between two pairs of eyes,
the same eyes: the water’s living blue
recreates the hue of each imperfectly.
