Osmosis
The water is to swimmer as a
kiss
Placed on a closed but
moving eye.
And swimmer is to water
As a ghost to a claiming
room.
The swimmer – suspended,
flickering –
Parts the soft walls in the
thickened realm
Of an element not entirely
owned;
A bladder of heavy air,
Embodied; and yet boneless.
Katherine Pierpoint, Truffle Beds (London: Faber and Faber, 1995), 47.
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