Vision 1 by Ashley Bovan<\/p><\/div>\n

Trinity<\/strong><\/p>\n

My boots struggle on the ice, step, step,
\npenguin walk, mold to steps, that already labored
\nthis sidewalk, her arm clutching tightly
\nunder my arm; then the fall
\ncrack and bounce,
\nmy puffy coat becoming sumo padding
\nlike the outfits we donned at the Confirmation retreat.
\nScott? That wasn\u2019t the name I chose\u2026 Jude\u2026
\nLet\u2019s get you back up\u2026 My grandmother
\n(…lost causes, but more because I liked that Beatles\u2019 song)
\nhovers pieta fashion over me, brushes the melt
\nand salt from my check,
\nWell, you aren\u2019t Lott\u2019s wife<\/em>
\nthat\u2019s for sure,<\/em> as she flicks a crystal skidding over the ice,
\nShe stood straight as a pillar.<\/em> We laugh and I sling
\nmy backpack back over my shoulder to renew the trek,
\nDropped one,<\/em> her stroke frozen right hand hefts
\nmy journal, Maybe, someday there\u2019ll be
\na poem about this?<\/em> Maybe.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

We are borne and baptized over and over again
\nat the Vernon Center Pool (named for the patron
\nof swimmers and, therefore, the only place
\nI am allowed to take lessons), heads rippling
\nthrough amniotic liquid, gasping at air
\nas if it was a first breath.
\nI cannot float,
\ncannot trust the silken waters to swaddle and
\nhold me aloft, cannot release this
\nweight to faith without flailing away,
\nand with my head tipped back, straight,
\nI can make out the shadows of birds alit
\non the domed roof of the natatorium,
\nthen I sink, cleave,
\nharrow to the bottom
\nas dozens of legs tread or dangle, chlorine burns
\nmy panicked eyes wide and blinded by the churn
\nof kicked up tide and earthquake schisms from
\nthe kids on the high dive, the first thing I see
\nas the water skin peels from my face \u2013
\nsunlight through the roof, aureoles glow
\non the heads of climbers ascending.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

You should have picked Peter,<\/em> my grandmother tells
\nme, bobbing her tea bag like a buoy, Oh, ye of little faith;<\/em>
\nI just roll my eyes, hum na, na, na, nanana, na, nanana, na
\nin my head, focus on
\na wisp of string ending at the Twinings tag,
\nwound around her fingers, which in another month will be rendered
\nuseless, in a few years on, she, too,
\nwill be gone, but I am
\nonly twelve and do not grasp any of this. Yet, for some reason,
\nthe vapors rising from her cup form angels against
\nthe glass in the window and I know I will
\nnever forget her saying, The reason
\nPeter couldn\u2019t float, couldn\u2019t walk
\nthe water like Jesus was that he lacked
\nfaith… in himself.<\/em><\/p>\n

~ Scott Sanborn<\/p>\n

. . .<\/p>\n