The Depth

once I swam
with my mother and

in chlorine pools
tile halls
hard echos

and soon it seems
I must return
to such a place
for winter's shelter

but now while light still lingers
and winds are mild
I swim
in the deep
man made

the still cool water
the hushed expanse
the mineral bath of history's hammers
the grotto walls
of green, no purple
no gold, no green
on pink cold granite's easel

above is the sky
below is the water
in surface reflection
a silent duet

I enter the mirror
it closes behind me
I cause it to ripple
but soon I am gone

Ann-Patrice Hickey