Amorak Huey

                after Mary Ruefle

I used to be thinner.
On my shelf a collection of trophies
I did not win.
I could keep them balanced on my stomach.
When games are played
often I am elected to keep score.
Something to do with counting,
wanting, trust.
All this tallying up.
This reckoning.
I read a poem about football
but I wanted it to be about swimming.
Splash. Immersion. Crave.
To give oneself completely
to water.
For maximum speed
one must hold one’s fingers
a precise distance apart –
the effect of a web.
To move without encumbrance
is to stay alive.
Nothing is ever easy,
which is why it matters so much.
It’s not the metal we find precious.
I miss being touched that way –
triumphantly –
first lips, then teeth, testing for the give.



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