Swimming Laps by Arthur Sze

Swimming Laps

 

Swimming backstroke toward the far end of a pool in sunlight—

 

yellow flares in the nearby aspens—

 

in the predawn sky, Mars and Venus glimmered—

 

how is it a glimmering moment coalesces, and the rest slides like flour through a sieve?—

 

how is it these glimmerings become constellations in a predawn sky?—

 

reaching the wall, I turn and push off swimming freestyle—

 

how is it we bobbed in water beyond the breaking surf, and I taste that salt in my mouth now?—

 

how is it, dishevelled, breathless, we drew each other up into flame?—

 

how is it that flame burns steadily within?—

 

reaching the wall, I turn and push off swimming sidestroke—

 

with each scissors kick, I know time’s shears—

 

this is not predawn to a battle when the air dips to a windless calm—

 

let each day be lived risking feeling loving alive to ivy reddening along the fence—

 

reaching the wall, I turn and push off swimming breaststroke—

 

how is it I see below then above a horizon line?—

 

how is it I didn’t sputter, slosh, end up staring at a Geiger counter clock mounted on a barroom wall?—

 

I who have no answers find glimmering shards—

 

reaching the wall, I pause, climb out of the pool, start a new day—