THE SWIM

Gigi Marks

The lake, wide but longer
than the imagination (it makes its own
horizon north and south), comes prettily
to our feet, a giant animal grown
gentle. Is it like anything else
we know? I remember being thirteen and
briefly in love with a boy already
as large as a large man, and him offering
his tender lips to mine-the rest of his
body there, but not touching, not yet.
Have we forgotten everything else?
If I want I can remember everything-
the not tender, the not gentle-
but look at what we're being offered,
the chance to strip down, accept grace
with our own grace, dive in and forget.