I plump after the divers do the same twisting flops, when the pool
angles towards you its want of more patting. Its want of more care
is loud in its angle, its want of your hand-shaped films on its belly.
To listen, your frame on its belly will listen, you fold out your petting-
pans close up the water. Your pads are close on the water to listen,
to warm it, you’re warming the petting plane flush. You’re warming the
half inch of cool air of handling your fingers of air, air fingers the water.
You finger the rectangle wide and olympic. You finger the widest still
formating lane. The spread with the one knuckle tipped in a counter
light ripples wide giving the tall end the vapors. The tail end, the lenses,
the focus crawls up and beside you, behind you the focus is flat.
On your back, it flattens your hair down your crouching, extrusion,
a word for your lips lays out. A word for the diver, the muscular focus, the
muscular rungs for the diver are smiling. The pool might be smiling, the
pool is still wanting, the pool is preparing a statement below. The gigantic
new diver is already swaying, you’re squat with your listening close to the
silence, the step, the silence, the bounce, the body, the body is already
turning. The body is already dilating. The focus is already bending. The
room is already bending and smiling. The smiling is already flipping and
tucking. The pool is already gasping. Your body is still listening. The diver
is wide on the surface. The diver is prone on the surface. The pool lays
down beneath her. The pool speaks with its mouth full: