Tara Willoughby

The Five Stages of Ocean-Bathing

I - Torpor 

the engine of the 100 bus grumbles at each stop

it rumbles through mist unflinching 

blinking humans are this monster's gut microflora

blank minds and blank hearts along for the ride

II - Will Power

How can water so gently waiting

be quite so intimidating?

Shuffle forward - let this box of borrowed sea

lap at your knee pits. 

Squeal in delicious fear.

Another freezing ripple crests 

at your groin, then the tight curves 

of your breasts. Goosebumps march across your skin.

The ocean comes to claim your mind.

Finish it. 

Shove your face right under.

III - Meditation 

Rhythmic movement:

          each stroke follows

          each kick follows     

          each heartbeat follows                                                            

Deep breaths:

out, two, three, four

in

out, two, three, four

in

          A fish?

          Shiny.Sleek.Gone.                                                                   

Fisssshhhhhhh, two, three, four

in.                                                                    

IV - Softness

A piece of silver driftwood, silky

smooth to the touch, has been left

on the bench of the ladies' change room.

I peel off my seal skin

to let my plump parts and stretch marks

get their time in the sun. 

I am pink and steaming

like the new flesh under a blister.

I want to chuckle at the freedom of it all.

And the clouds are as rosy as my thighs.

And they don't see me. And they don't hear me laugh.

But to me they are a wonder.

V - Return

A plastic bag full of damp things is kicked under the desk.

All around it are cords and dust,

bottle tops, chewed pen lids, a chip packet.