Swim to Me
--
Poem by Carrie Lynne Hawthorne
Mom stands
in her black one-piece
trying not to wet her perm
shoulders glisten with baby oil
arms outstretched
closer I come
farther she gets
belly full of water
I spit a mouthful
of chlorine at her
head goes under
eyes burn
ears flood
sinuses flush
portal of light
streams through her legs
she backs away
kick
reach
splash
gasp
her hands grasp mine
I cling to her curves
she slinks up the steps
I suction to
her freckled skin
teeth chatter
she wraps me in
terry cloth hug
concrete sears my feet
sink through
plastic chair slats
sun splits the horizon
halo of white light
she is my shade
Carrie Lynn Hawthorne is a writer and mother from Pasadena, CA. You can find her work in Hennepin Review, Sunlight Press, Cultural Daily, and more. For links to her recent publications, go to carrielynnhawthorne.com.
