Would I chance it, Stephen?
Certainly not. You’re more likely to drown
if you swim under skies that are murky and brown.
And what’s that fence here for? Who cares if it’s green.
I’m more concerned with its ungainly lean
and its reason for being here. Something’s not right.
It belongs somewhere else (and would look better white) –
which prompts me to wonder just where it has been.
Did it come in a storm? What’s it all mean?
Blue bottles on beaches don’t appeal either,
glass ones or stinging ones. I insist neither
of these little dangers should ever be seen
on a beach where I swim; I’m a stickler for “clean”.
And one other thing: there’s no one else here;
I like to know that a life-guard is near.
That settles the matter. I wouldn’t go in.
I’d choose somewhere else for my holiday swim.
But if you’re inspired by your re-arranged mess
the outcome, I’d say, is anyone’s guess.
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7