By Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon
Fourteen. My first bikini,
thick, blue nylon pants and bra
stretched across smooth rolls
of puppy fat. My navel pouting
towards the camera. Not knowing
where to look, my eyes dive down
into the lido, where I want to hide.
Child, for God’s sake, smile,
my mother chides. I try, my lips
curve into a smirk; the best I can do.
Why did she buy me this two-piece –
my old, ruched swimsuit, lemon yellow,
would have done me. Posing over, I run
and belly flop, splashing water exultantly.
Chlorine catches in my throat, I cough
then remember how to crawl to freedom.
My arms make mighty slices, powering
towards the Aussie lifeguard
who might just save me
from my mother.
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She is a Pushcart and Forward Prize nominee. Her first chapbook ‘Cerddi Bach’ (Little Poems), was published in 2019 by Hedgehog Press. She is developing practice as a participatory arts facilitator, mainly working with elders and intergenerational groups. She believes everyone’s voice counts.
