#2 French Swimming Pool

I'm no mermaid -
That chance left long ago
And so I approach l'eau
Avec trepidation,
Celui ci n'est pas courage,
C'est une homage de
Ma copine qui loves it:
Piscine, pristine, cleaving waves
With ease, teasing gravity's grip
And slipping free -
In her element.

It isn't mine -
I'm nervous, always,
At what I see as this perversion -
This is no excursion,
At best a dare,
As I bare my fear and flesh
To this chlorine-choked,
Faux-marine scene.
Pushed past by children -
Rushing, cocky, mocking
The earthbound with
Sure-footed folly over
Smooth wet slabs to splash!
And roll and glide,
Thoughtless.

I'm tired,
I've been translating myself
All week -
Entreating ancient memories
Tugging at understanding
Sometimes just nodding
As I tread awkward water
Until I find my feet.
You are politely plural,
I always turn my head the wrong way,
And apologies are desolate
Until I'm told "C'est ne pas grave!"
Je ne suis pas suave, je crois
Mais ça ne fait rien.
Alors, bien, I'll shrug off
Disappointments and paddle,
Quacking only when I'm crossed.

As I submerge myself,
Trust my skill's suspension,
I find that I can still breathe
My more customary fire
When required,
That, on my own terms,
Not only do I not die,
But I can bob, smiling,
Buoyant for a while -
Un peut plus lentement,
Si'l vous plaît, does wonders.

And I may never now be chic
But I've learned that I can
Slip between these states of being,
These balances of tongue,
And limb, and breath,
And best my terror,
Gentle guest in another's country,
Still myself.