The pool shivers before we begin.
Is the god above so jealous
we must cover our heads
when we swim?
Light blue churn
as women take turns diving in,
only within the sanctioned-off section.
Hours of submersion
to be strictly observed.
The pool cleared of men for this purpose.
We jump without form or direction,
nor knowledge of what lies hidden
below our uv protection.
To speak of the body,
strictly forbidden.
The lifeguards will whistle
at any whisper or giggle.
We live behind the spandex curtain.
Modesty and subservience required
as Totalitarians Suburban.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Artwork: Ian Davis
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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