Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

He’d watch her swim out. Too far. Every day she’d go
further. He’d watch her wade into the water up to her thighs,
dive into the autumn blue Aegean, watch her strong strokes
until she was out of sight, then forget her for a while.

The sea was calm today. I was swimming to the headland
where acid yellow lemons ripen over the island’s dead.
Halfway there the sky went flint black. The quick meltemi
rushing across the land. Blowing me to the horizon.

Today he didn’t notice her going. He felt the sudden wind
blow, churning the sea navy blue. He waited on the pale sand
occasionally looking towards the headland. She was gone.
She was selfish. If he went in after her he’d probably drown.

Sharp waves bit my face. I set a pace. Headed straight for shore.
Steady strokes. Steady breathing. I was just a little stronger
than the wind. I watched two people playing on the pale sand
as my head went in and out of the water and the sky became blue.

The beach was as it had been as he talked to a stranger, watched
her walk towards him. A slight softening in his body at her arrival,
a slight hesitation in the conversation as she lay down on the sand,
‘Ah, yes’, when she told him the wind had nearly blown her away.

Lying on the sand I looked at the sea, smooth as silver, listened
to small waves breaking on the shore, of life near me. I thought
of swimming to the headland, warming my skin on the white stone,
imagined the solitary pleasure of swimming as far as the eye can see.