Wednesday, January 6, 2016

LAP SWIM

Swam laps.  Forgot goggles
but the light, the sound of water
lapping in my ears while I backstroke.
I thought of mother; her swimsuit
threadbare where her pregnant belly lolled.
All that was in San Antonio,
I remember.

In San Antonia father was in a rage
Studying full-time
Army.

So we walked
with mother, played
with her, teased her.

Mondays to the library
toeing the curb with red keds
watching mom for signs
of morning sickness.

Thursdays to the 7-11
and back home, chomping free ice
the entire way, hunching over the drains
to see how many cockroaches we could count.


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