blank eyed child sucking a pink curl of thumb
wet in the Belco Pool change room tile
grit clinging to feet this room is so grainy
with child their women's imploring sound
losing the shape of language melting into
this dense damp mass of sound in the
ears of children don't think in words
only body and shape and he wasn't thinking
only putting out a clammy tiny new soft
hand into the centre of my back.

my skin would have felt hard
old as bark go away, kid.