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

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