Melon Cola

Plugging each other’s noses on the pool floor,
Quiet, so we can’t hear her mother calling, 
Melon and cola, coughing chlorine.
Sunlight is loud when you’ve got tiny ears,
Do they grow at all? I cracked my tooth 
On the sink, and now I whistle 
When I laugh. She can touch her 
Elbow to her forehead, who taught her that?
Race you to the end of the pool, but I'm afraid,
A dolphin guards the deep end, frozen.
I’m afraid it’ll nip at my ankles when I swim past;
She bites instead. Her face is different every time.
She saw her parents braiding 
Each other’s eyelashes together, want to try it
When we’re done? It’s dark already.
Blue as the tiles, moon, the tip of her nose,
Fingers pruney on the rusty ladder.
Grown-ups talk in lowered voices, pulling their cups
Towards them as we drip past,
But I slip and crack neatly in half.
Then I’m sitting at their table,
Whistling as I laugh, except 
It’s not funny now
Wrapping fingers around my glass,
My showers still taste like melon cola.

Illustration by Myriam Louise Taleb