qarrtsiluni

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

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::