Submerged

The chlorine stings my tired eyes,

the ceiling is a blur of white.

I kick beneath where silence lies

in heavy, artificial light.

Down where the tiles are cracked and green,

near where the heavy suction waits,

is something the machine has missed between

the iron bars of drainage grates.

A plastic bandage, soaked and blue,

its adhesive edges gone to grey.

It’s waving like it’s saying 'who?'

as all the skin it held has peeled away.