Two Poems About Swimming

Dusk Swim

So studied the swimmer
So form on lake
So paddle sand so damp down
So slap spatter glass
So sun dreams glide face
So miracle slide he.

Marco Polo (for Annie L.)

Learning to swim at 54
requires a teacher
with a connection
to the float of things.

Hand-in (sure as Jesus)
(Father, take this cup)
we step from the deck,
feet walking in wet space,
child and midwife to this reverse birth,

one roaring terror of a silver second

then you, sweet you, with agape of
a glad, transformed Ahab
cheer every breach and fluke and flail
of this old white whale.


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