the touch By Keith Pearson

the black pool, nightswimming

a cold and vivid bloodshot

   and fear

in the domain of creatures

blind and without purpose.

and she turns, ahead of him

skin pale against this blurred sight

wet and slick, surprised

but not too surprised.

and just out of the grasp

of his reaching hand.

Keith Pearson

I live in southern New Hampshire and works with special ed students at a local high school.