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TITLE: Swimming Lessons
By Lynda Olson
10/26/05
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When I was in college, my poetry teacher told me this was her favorite poem that I wrote. However, I had many other poems I liked much better and didn't really love this one. I thought I'd post it to see what other people think or what suggestions they might have.
Those cheek pinchin' old women--
I decided they were crazy
When I was a young girl
drawing haystacks on church bulletins
and decorating every empty space
until they overflowed
with tic-tac-toe
in the pews of the old, traditional Brethren church
filled with those insane old women.
Senile--if I would have known what it was,
that's what I would have called them,
their pillowy arms smothering me in hugs,
my face trapped in musty mothball skin.
Then...they sneak to my cheeks and PULL--
all the pain of a pinch
but much too long to call it that.
Those crazy old ladies
who are all named Edna for all I know,
why are they so happy
about me singing a song about a man who fished for men
or about me winning the poster contest
when I drew that cave with a stone beside it
or about the time
I swam in a luke-warm bathtub?
They are not even my grandmas,
and they're smiling at me
as if I was their new-born grandaughter.

And I remember those lunatic ladies
as I watch my younger brother
swim in a luke-warm bathtub
at thirteen,
and my cheeks are luke-warm
with salty streams,
and I'm ready to smother him in a hug
and cradle his cheeks in my hands
to save him the pain of a pinch,
but I remember those crazy old,
jolly old, heaven-bound women and keep my distance
and smile a smile I hope he can FEEL.
And I hope he doesn't wonder why-like I did.
And I realize
that I have a new-born brother,
and I have become crazy at age 20.
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