The high diving board at the open-air pool
taunted my Mother like a tongue. While young boys
leapt from the first board, clenched like stones,
she held herself in by the pool-rail.
Then one day she just shrugged off the shallows,
strode like Johnny Weismuller to the deep end.
I had no idea what she was climbing towards
but she reached the top, balanced above
the craning necks, and stretched. A short run
and she sprang into the charged air,
making new shapes for herself: twisting
and turning like a dolphin, plunging into the water -
a guillemot, sending out relentless waves
that will keep on nudging me off balance.
