or stutter like a beginner adult

swimmer, all limbs & gasp, how one might draw
 

the blades of a fan, extra arms whirring

in swimming-pool sky. In truth we reflect
 

each other all the time. Which part of me
is the Peeping Tom part of you? Bricks w/
 

gaps at eye level, slatted locker room window
stick-propped “for ventilation,” &
 

me, dripping sandbag-heavy in the arms
of my instructor. The awkwardness of
 

learning anything: songbirds parse phrases
before they riff & when I was young words
 

ghosted my tongue, a reflex effect

at the back of my throat going on & on