slick skin shoulders
roll your blades cut
through shimmering
wake six feet at least
of all too young you
your arms free from
everything but style
strength no ring
reach out for more
a bit more so much
more you pull through
and push and kick over
and over you come
closer I wait at lane’s
end for you your splash
and off again I don’t
mind not one wet drop
you send drip over
my pages and pages of
unread stories in Jellyfish
I turn like the swirl of the
second hand where you
keep your eyes when you
breathe breathe in your
sight line suck in this
c section scar uncross
thighs to look strong
I am I am I am but
good god what those arms
could do on dry land