Swimming Lesson
The pond stretches
into a Great Lake,
the safe area marked
by bright red floats
strung on yellow rope.
He wades until the water
reaches his waist,
stretches as the teacher
instructs, arms straight
past his head,
straight back,
face in the water.
Here his skin from head
to toe meets the world
and there is water
at the surface, water beneath
the surface, water
underwater going on
forever. He could sink
all the way to China,
not have to dig after all.
If he drowns he rises back
to the light. Everyone
applauds his dead man’s float.
by Michael Milligan
Read by Dave Bonta — Download the MP3
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Categories: Water
the ambiguity of hope or death gives this poem of childhood
a liquid sprinkle of wonder.
Wonderful. The structure on the page is like breathing out and breathing in, or something repetitive, like strokes learned in a lesson. It mirrors the antitheses, too.