Doing Things Is Difficult

“It’s beautiful outside, I want to be it.”
“To be what?”  “Outside!”

The water was calm, chilled out.
Our bodies were warm, before
we got in slowly.

I had not been swimming in ages,
too lazy or shy or still or serious.

But in the sea, you looked so sure –
like you were returning
to a house you once lived in,

You ducked your head in the water,
pushed your legs up in the air,
like they were hands, raised to the sun.

I hadn’t been upside down in years.

Back on land, skin salt-raw,
sore air in our lungs, we got
into the car, shivered, ate crisps.

At home, I tried out being upside down,
head on the floor, feet climbing the wall.
Got you to hold me by the ankles until I
was set and steady and could re-establish
my coordinates.


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