Today's poem is by Leslie Contreras Schwartz
The Swim to Antarctica
After Lynne Cox
Before the swim, in twenty-two degree waters,
the crew practices her death, then a revival.
She picks out landmarks jutting from the water that look
remembers how the kelp and barnacles held her body in south
Then she is submerged in the freezing water, head under against
Her body gasps for air, a tight pocket to hold in her body, a
Thirty years of swimming to fight for a single breath now.
She paddles, she argues with her body as it says No, not ever
and goes faster, harder, plainer. Single strokes make their way
as they scrape her body like glass shards, and in her mind she
places these shards
in the core of herself, breaks them down into heat and suggestion
in the pitch of her own voice breaking through to say what she
wanted to say to the body:
you are owned, not owner. Her mind fights the sensations
of deep cold and wet and ice, her fingers and toes blooming.
She remembers the story of the leopard seal skinning a penguin
and the rising memory of survival nods like the brash ice
Copyright © 2016 Leslie Contreras Schwartz All rights reserved
Saint Julian Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Weekly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Copyright © 2002-2016 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002-2016 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved