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| Bathers, 1950 by George Tooker |
The smell of chlorine and sweat
stings my nose and throat
My feet scrape against
unfamiliar concrete,
step in puddles
of warmish water
The sickly sweet scent
of suntan lotion
fills the air with
artificial coconut
My bathing cap
covers my head
in gaudy rubber flowers,
the strap pulled too tight
I gaze around the grass,
try to find an open spot
to lay my towel
and glasses
Now I am a mole
in the overbearing sunlight
I want to tunnel
back underground
Here I am too exposed
My pale skin protests
the scorching light
Shouts and laughter
of other children
are a foreign language to me
I am an outsider
I know my otherness
will be discovered
any moment
Whistle blows
shrill and ominous
The lesson begins
Cold water assaults
my skin,
uncovered and unprotected
We line up
at the diving board
I feel like a cow
being herded to slaughter
One after the other
the children jump and dive
Then it is my turn
I feign confidence
and walk to the board's end
pray silently to Poseidon
and jump
The sting hits
my belly
as it always does
My nose fills
with water
My eyes
with tears
I climb up the ladder
Bright red slap on my belly
and a matching one
on my face
I look at the clock
and calculate
how many more assaults
I must endure
until the hour is
over.
