The Nude Swim

On the southwest side of Capri

we found a little unknown grotto

where no people were and we

entered it completely

and let our bodies lose all

their loneliness.

All the fish in us

had escaped for a minute.

The real fish did not mind.

We did not disturb their personal life.

We calmly trailed over them

and under them, shedding

air bubbles, little white

balloons that drifted up

into the sun by the boat

where the Italian boatman slept

with his hat over his face.

Water so clear you could

read a book through it.

Water so buoyant you could

float on your elbow.

I lay on it as on a divan.

I lay on it just like

Matisse's Red Odalisque.

Water was my strange flower,

one must picture a woman

without a toga or a scarf

on a couch as deep as a tomb.

The walls of that grotto

were everycolor blue and

you said, "Look! Your eyes

are seacolor.  Look!  Your eyes

are skycolor."  And my eyes

shut down as if they were

suddenly ashamed.