Pool
My words ripple through water.
When they touch you,
you don’t understand.
They escape your fingers.
Words surrounded by stones.
Words
under
water.
They swim inside themselves
to find their own light.
In the pool I inhale your skin.
I swim in the scent of you.
My words don’t touch you
the way our kisses do.
Our toes touch as
fantail koi brush your skin
in a Japanese temple garden.
My words
swim through the water
push through
the alphabet of your skin.
— Diane Frank
