At my mother’s retirement village
I have my own thoughts
the swimming pool is so cold
how would an eighty-year old
feel when hitting that water?
Is it there for the children
staying over? And if
you stay over at your
mother’s retirement home
maybe you won’t be so picky?
You’re used to chilly public pools
swimming in the ocean or weed-
filled rivers. No beach-side hotel
with heated pool for you.
Who do you tell
when the water is too cold.
Is there anyone to tell?
Everything here is seamless
unimpeachable. The dishwasher
when operating
allows the cutlery drawer
to close with a millimeter's grace.
What happens on sweltering days
when the metal expands
who will mum go to?
Perhaps the management will think
other factors will come into play.
I was going to say
something now but forgot
like you I find it hard to handle
so much detail in my daily life.
Meanwhile I’m in between
laps in the chilly pool
when mum leans over
the child-proof fence
and remarks how the pool
in our best house
was so much bigger.
I look down and say
I don’t think so mum…
I was always a contrary child
Sad...
ReplyDeleteVery nice.
ReplyDeleteThat final impulse, reply, captured well, and well observed. So much tension in this poem, love it.
ReplyDeletegood stuff
ReplyDelete