8 21 25 I have swum
Recently
I have swum
in the cold
dark atlantic
off of Brier Island,
Nova Scotia
and shortly
thereafter I threw
myself off of reddish
sand into the turbulent
Bay of Fundy
and in New Brunswick
I let the Restigouche River
push my bulk down
a serpentine path
and later still I swirled
majestically in the old
quarry waters of Lac
Crystal, Quebec
and from there it was
onto mighty Lake Superior
where I floated wildly
above its infinite glossy
pink stones
and in Winnipeg
I dove into a hotel pool
swimming with an
enormous fat man
who enjoyed sliding
upside down through
the winding kiddies
tunnel that spat
him into the pool
like an enormous
ball of phlegm
and I didn’t swim again
until I hit the Okanagan Lake
which was divine in its
inviting tepidity
and when I got home
to Denman Island
I bounded down into the blue
pacific tossing linens
like an old stripper
across the oyster beds
in nothing more than
my modern loin cloth
hurling myself into
the frothy salt chuck
head first while
swinging deep with
my overhand stroke
only to find it was
the coldest of all
which is good
for oysters,
gooey ducks
and people
who really like to
swim like
me.
