Tonight he's given his water wings to a smaller boy
And floats, completely motionless, on his back,
My hand resting beneath the small ridge of his spine.
He's studying the ceiling like I told him to,
Like I did for endless laps. Just like tonight,
The gymnasium lights, the sound of water displaced
By many silent kids, the damp heat against the windows
In December, the chlorine. He's not afraid anymore.
Maybe he'll get his name on the board for best time.
Maybe this prince will grow the gills I never did and
Go beneath the ocean forever, like Namor, the Sub-mariner.
I will show him how to embrace it, to uncurl and move
Through it like space, pure and alone. I will let him go.
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