Fish
her legs finally rejected
the underwater ground
defied habitual gravity and flotation
and kicked the length of the pool
navigating the deep and the shallow
her face remembered the water of the womb
and her gentle eyes opened to the magical
blue-marble underwater-world
pride dripped from her lashes
blue reflecting blue
rimmed with chlorine
seven summers of swimming lessons
and road-trip motel pools
puddled in an aquatic convergence
on the deck around her feet
Mama, it’s just like flying!
copyright Megan E. Freeman
originally published in Lessons on Sleeping Alone