Jacob

[penneddown]

When I was seventeen years old 
I sunk to the bottom of my uncles pool.
I blew wind off my lungs 
like a sheet on the washing line
billowing in the half light.
My burnt eyes wept
chlorine tears.

The water held me
let me gently descend like
a hot air balloon as I remembered
blood red poppies and 
a painting at The National.
You wrapped me in your cling film
dreams -
I kept your hands in my back pockets.

Days later I was as dried out
as my grandmothers old towels.
Something soft loved too hard,
redemption stuck inside my arid tongue.

Edit 2

When I was seventeen 
I sunk to the bottom of my uncle’s pool,
Exhaled and billowed in the blue half light
like a sheet on the washing line.

I remembered
blood red poppies and 
a painting at The National.
Wrapped up in your cling film
dreams -
I kept your hands in my back pockets.

Days later I was as dried out
as my grandmothers old towels.
Like terrycloth almost frangible -
Something soft loved too hard.