As you guide the lane line roller around the diving well, the grit behind your eyes clicks. You’ve navigated the corner hundreds of times, but suddenly, the tug of metal on your fingers becomes insistent, not unlike an unwatched child. The wheels slip below the waterline and you’re holding on with all your sixteen years as the corroded steel digs through your skin to striate muscle with rust. The pool is frozen lapis, its exhale thickened with chlorine as you wrestle the behemoth from the deep. Together, you collapse on tile, sipping in pregnant air. Unmoved, sure, but somehow, saved.
Salena Casha's work has appeared in over 100 publications in the last decade. Subscribe to her substack at salenacasha.substack.com