The Only Time I See My Father Swim
There’s a hiss as he eases himself in
to the green pool, steam in his smoky hair.
Fish flicker around his feet, his legs lift,
quiver like flames in the mountain river.
Water spills over the plank dam to trickle
across the rocks below, while a hot wind
funnels through the gorge, pushes ripples
against his skin as he rests in the shallows.
Sun glances off his chest and shoulders,
his eyes alight to find himself immersed,
weightless, the fiery core of endless bursts
that radiate like fireworks, shimmer
as he moves, the river a hissing fuse
lit by the sight of him swimming.
Thea Smiley won second prize in the 2025 Yaffle’s Nest competition, and was highly commended in the Ver Poets and Write Out Loud competitions. Her work has been published in magazines, and in anthologies from Renard Press and Arachne Press.