Margaret Fieland
Swimming Pool
I plunge into the pool. The pelt on my arms floats on the surface of the water. I lie on my back, chlorine-scented drops creep up my skull, stick to the clumps of short black curls, drip down my neck. I turn onto my stomach, swallow each gulp of air as I stroke across the pool. A hand pulls me under, my lungs ache for air as I bob up. I scramble out, doff my white bathing cap. Water drips down my tank suit, over my rounded stomach, down my skinny legs, pale and speckled with black hair, onto the cold white tiles.
Born and raised in New York City, Margaret Fieland has been around art and music all her life. She is the mother of three grown sons, an accomplished flute and piccolo player. Her poems, articles and stories have appeared in journals such as Main Channel Voices, Echolocation, and Twisted Tongue. You may visit her website, http://www.margaretfieland.com.
