alexander-black and white

The old men talk about Skopje at the pool where
I do my twenty. Drum-tight bellies becoming boulders.
Swim? Never, but they can’t wait to get their gear off and recline
– bronzed Aristotle and pupil – on the warm cement.

My arm goes down in the water, propelling me
through that which would close over but for the next and the next.
A propagation of waves and then empty as ever
but for unsteady counting and my breath.

Walking on the sand my way already gone
under the suds: ahead nothing and behind……. each cloud
each wave the same despite the incremental tide:
it’s like turning the wheel, like flying,

…………………………………………….ahead there’s a T and a wall.
They’re still at it – one’s got a banana and the other’s
talking about Alexander to the ends of the world.

Image – Mosaic, Alexander the Great, c/- Wikimedia; written for dverse, the poet’s pub where Paul is hosting and asks us to write about change.

15 thoughts on “Change

  1. I like this poem’s buoyancy (the cool water, the counting strokes, the T on the wall) vs the weightiness of the old men (their conversation, the warm cement). It’s tactile, if that makes sense.


  2. Very enjoyable, Peter. I was also puzzled by the banana, but now I know it was a true fact. 😃 The walk along the beach, vivid, where time disappears, really resonated with me. Maybe because of my past fishing days, walking over headlands and along the sand for hours.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s