From the archive
Swimming
The public pool was as familiar
as the swim wrinkles
on the soles of her feet
—since the funeral,
Mum would take me there
more than three times a week.
We’d been there with my older brother
when Mum would still swim.
We followed the rule:
changing, then shower!
but I stopped racing,
as it felt like a whim.
It was busy that day, six weeks in,
as I got lost amid
the hands and heads;
my Mum pulled me up
—just in time—
on my swimsuit straps.