Into The Pool, Fully Clothed. Poem by Perfection Is Flawed
Into The Pool, Fully Clothed.
Tentatively, she steps,
Dark blue jeans made darker
by cold, chorine(d) water.
(What are the consequences?
No matter, for
Nothing matters now.)
She leaps, and like a fledgling
from its mother’s warm breast,
falls,
her loose white blouse billowing, suddenly,
like a cloud of forgotten dreams,
Or a parachute half-opened.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
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5/5/2024 7:06:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
