Swimming in the Dark

Entire summer days, we run slick pavement.

Hurl ourselves from a low board into cool water

for shiny pennies tossed. Underwater tea parties

and handstands. Skinny legs in the air

ready to ignite.

At night from a back bedroom window,

I spy on the swimming pool. Light left on illuminates

the moving rectangle of blue. Hole my father dug

to hold us there. My sister and brother asleep

in the same room. Outside, bats like dark kites

dare the night.

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