• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 05

Bath Road, September ‘81

Kicking backwards
across the pool –
two floats beneath my head –
trepidation
turns to terror
when too strong a kick
turns me over.

Flailing
beneath the water,
there is nothing,
whatsoever,
to cling to
and time…
slows…

The surface parts
and Mr Woollaston’s hand
descends;
a silhouette at first,
the detail
gradually focusing,
revealing at last
glimmering strings
of tiny bubbles
caught upon
the reddish hairs
of his freckled forearm,

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Bath Road, September ‘81

just before
he catches my wrist
and hauls me
airwards.

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