THE SWIMMING HOLE
I’m sorry,
my darling
but the chores are undone,
the lambs unfed,
the wood unchopped,
the beans not weeded.
It was hot
and the sun lives
in a strange sky.
It made me think of many things.
I found myself at the lake,
floating past the dock,
where girls with enormous breasts
sun naked on the cedar planks,
where the skinny boys pretend
they are only dancing in water,
but I was not watching.
The sky unnaturally blue,
the bullfrogs humming among the lily pads.
I was drifting in a black lake,
stunned by a single scudding cloud.
It’s the swimming hole.
What can I say?
There are so few of them left.
I floated away
on my back, defenceless
in a changing world,
the limpid water
very soft,
and very sweet.