They come from the sand, ready

in tank suits and floral caps

with territorial air and scorn

for those who waste time lying in the sun.

They are like sea turtles, from their sense of purpose,

to the color of their skin to their wrinkled everything.

They trudge on shore but then swim forth

in straight lines cut with punctual strokes and eyes

fixed on a horizon beyond the horizon, closing

for the nares to take in the waft of brine.

They keep swimming back and forth and never talk

counting silently, in a self-devised mantra mode.

And the October sea stays calm, nurturing

and warm – because it knows.

They are like sea turtles

only that their heads always stay above,

as their statement of dignity and manifesto,

and they always return to the shore.

"Late Swimmers" belongs to the chapbook In Womanly Fashion.