New Poem

At the Motel Pool

She sits on a stool in a blue pool
with the water over her head
I expect her to bloom
like the strange flowers
in my clear glass tea pot
but she straddles that stool
and competes with the water
for bluest
My shins in the shallows shimmer
flesh under fresh pressure
a slippery contradictory mystery
now I’m swimming; it’s thrilling
and she’s grinning and filming
When did she leave her stool and the pool?
Stop! I implore her, but she’s already bored
and towel-wrapped headed for a door
Strange how blinding light can tilt
and wilt to chill; I shiver
and my trembling lips fight the water
for bluest

Happy Reading and Writing!