Gabby’s Bathing Cap

(for my grandmother as a young woman)

There is no sun
for it can not be remembered:
only a growing pressure
radiant around your head
which is packed in silence
as you swim from shore
to the middle of the pond

In the still September water
clouds dimly reflect
like faded scuff marks
on an old dance floor

Treading the fogbound water
you are a pin stuck all the
way into an old fur collar
Your head is bandaged in
bright cellophane its white-
ness clamps down gently onto
the dark algae-green surface