The swimmers of Lethe 

Above the swimming pool but below the water, there lie the swimmers of Lethe. There in the sunlight, their dressed in shadows; silent ones mind. It’s only been three minutes but the airs fading. Fast fading, slow falling; the rhythm of the snow flake in June.

How they forget when there’s nothing to remember, ill never know. There feet leave no traces in the rain, as the recent past is munched up by thirsty puddles. The distant past, well that’s far closer, it refuses to go away. Even its absence has a tragic presence in the unknown void that it leaves in the corpse. A corpse which remembers the grasp but dreams of the last gasp. A corpse which can’t even be a corpse due to never have breathed, let alone the last or had lost. They float, prettily mind, like a leaf on watery air. They swim, forever, between somewhere and nowhere.