city pool

by amy sharp


under the surface of the city pool
you don’t exist
you either
or me for that matter
I’m like a silver steam robot
metal all wet and fast 
I’m like an animal without emotion
just heart beating 
slick like splash
in my ears 
in my chest
and I do not worry 
and I do not want
I just pull my arms over my head
and I glide

When you look at the bottom of the pool it isn’t sad, it’s beautiful. Muted color.
Tiny specks. Sometimes I will pass the same dead bug a few times. There was a piece of plastic floating in the water today by the end of lane 6. It was delicate like lace. I could not feel my goggles. They had become a part of my face.

And I break the surface and my face is a smile and I make small talk with the lifeguard who is so very brown and shiny up there in that hell hot chair. He looks at me. I pull my body from the water and take my towel and go sit with the other mothers in the grassy area. I shake my hair and announce to everyone how nice the water is. How it feels so good. And they would never guess all the things that I do not think about under the blue cool water of the pool in my town.