Angela Allen

Two people swimming in a pool, a tattooed man looking surprised in the foreground and a nude woman swimming behind him

Tip your head
for a half lung of rarified air
while scrawny boys swim you
down and flatten your chest
into a child’s.
You climb from the pool,
trailing a cup full of wetness.
You will know where
to find your fish suit
and wriggle into its scaly skin
with glittery sequins
throwing startling diamonds
off the mossy walls.
You’ll dive
into the dim aquarium
where seaweed strands
disguise your gills, your gaping mouth.
You will breath again.