Club Comanche, Virgin Islands Still Life, St. Croix 1953
alan catlin
By the hotel pool, she is sun bathing in her
one piece black suit. smoking cigarettes. eyes
shaded by aviator lenses, sipping daiquiris
one after the other, encouraging her five year
old son to dive deeper, to have no fear of
water. The water that stings his eyes and throat.
that pops inside his ears as he dives down,
unwatched, hyperventilating, working his way
from the shallow end to the forbidden deep.
A poor swimmer, he is afraid of anything he
cannot stand up in, dives deeper, as instructed,
at six feet and a half, hits bottom, head
still pointed down and stays, stunned, at the
base of the pale blue pool. His stinging eyes
open, seeing his scream dissolve into bubbles
that erupt on the surface, dispersed by filtering
jets of water, sees the white distorted edges
of the rippling clouds, his hands clutching
invisible rope ladders that stretch tight
against his mind, feet pushing against nothing,
treading a darkness as heavy as the water
inside his iron lungs.
