Jain

Fat and happy, like a soft piglet,
I barbecued, and wallowed in chlorine,
Drank deep wine, and necked the local moonshine,
And crackled my skin while chewing pulp lit.

When done marinading in factor fifteen,
I waddled from lounger to pristine
Pool, and plopped in, blanching cool my skin,
Succulent in the sticky stretched elasthane

Bikini, which, even submerged below
The brittle blue was exotic as the tick
Of cicadas. Then, it clicked: the ecstatic
Thrashing of the beasties was, in fact, death throes.

I saw them float, littering the surface,
Little crumbs, untidy and vigorous,
Engaged in an epic minute struggle,
When just a lifted pinkie could sort each guddle

Of soggy sorry legs and wings. So I stepped
In – fished out a big black one. And when the thing
Buzzed off, it was really satisfying.
Now I had a taste for it, so I kept

Going, with some success (bar those already
Dying or dead), bestowing steady
Little miracles, until the swept
Water was clean and still: I’d done. Except

On closer inspection, it was speckly;
Seasoned with nothing but dots, surely
Not worth the hassle? And those with bites and stings?
Did they deserve to receive my blessing?

Sometimes I look beyond the made-up ladies,
Gliding thin serene lengths with high faces,
And children churning water thick about me
Tirelessly (crazy scorched pool lady),

To my tangerine towel, abandoned
Behind me, while a great spider, long gone
Drifted down, the water’s puppet, wafts his arms,
Dancing with my feet along the bottom.


28/06/06