Michigan Sky

Oil on canvas, 40” x 40”

Laura Eyring

SWIMMING

—

Christopher Danzig

i’m sitting in the hot tub at the Las Brisas Inn

listening to a couple of teenage sisters

splash around with their brother

who can’t really swim.

they start doing cannonballs

where the pool is eight feet deep

while the oldest films with a gopro.

she won’t dive,

because she still has fake eyelashes on.

my own eyes are closed, but i listen

for unhappy gurgling or

however a drowning child sounds.

i don’t know why, but

i like to wait for disaster

when everyone else is having a good time.

as the boy awkwardly dog paddles

to the rounded edge of the pool

i try to remember the CPR class i took

back in high school:

are you supposed to push so hard

you break the kid’s ribs? that can’t be right.

while I’m wondering how long it would take

for an ambulance to get here,

also curious if it matters

that i don’t know the hotel’s address,

the siblings climb out of the pool, laughing;

they go back to their room,

shower, and order some pizza.

my eyes haven’t opened yet,

the wind picks up,

and I’m alone again in the sun.