Most of what I knew was untrue.
I think about what I used to know
while I write this poem in my head
and swim down the blue line
of the afternoon, submerged,
and waiting for a descending saint
in the shimmering light on the pool floor,
halo-edged in gold and salmon.
The edge of light and shadow
move slowly across the water.
I swim on
and think about honesty
A shallow laugh as the body turns away.
Promises fogotten on pocket scraps of paper.
Silences breaking the pace of days.
One daydream clasped hand.
Songs in dead languages.
I swim, and think about
what is true and
what I wish had been true.
Copyright Kay Winter