His backyard held the only pool we knew
its deep end moulded like a pelican’s beak—
so gentle was the roll-in that you flew
straight up the vert wall. At first you felt sick
at all that loss of gravity, but then
the feeling stuck, grew stronger every time
your nose approached the depth-marker—10
ft. You’d gulp a mouthful of air and climb
just higher than your comfort zone allowed
body compressed as fingers kissed blue tile’s
virgin promise—and friends don’t need to goad
you on at that point. Trial by trial
it’s waited you out; now you see it for
the first time, as it slams you to the floor.
Marc Alan Di Martino is a Pushcart-nominated poet and author of the collection Unburial (Kelsay Books, 2019). His work appears in Rattle, Baltimore Review, Palette Poetry, Rivet Journal and many other journals, as well as the anthologies Unsheathed: 24 Contemporary Poets Take Up the Knife (Kingly Street Press, 2019) and What Remains: The Many Ways We Say Goodbye (Gelles-Cole, 2019). He currently lives in Perugia, Italy with his family.
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