The swimmer retires
While I read through the old records
the city builds outside. There’s no texture
to the stale ribbon. Medals press on your casket
Over winter, I swam through each brief dawn
polish the useless talent
in the carved water
All honours wash away
He falls through the mist of reporters
veered from a dream
— a jewelled car that magnets round a coast
The pool unsheathed from me
The lanes unlock
as tallied seconds clang out each rubbed line
The hand on heart’s forgotten anthem
and splashed cameras
turn from the blue aisles
A king a servant thankfully
going
