When my girl and her friend walk away from me
at the swimming pool, I see her friend’s
sweet stick legs, thin as
legs drawn by a child, and then I
see my daughter’s curved hocks and
haunches, her hips that behind my back have
swelled until they taper delicious as
chicken legs, the liquid meat of the
thigh. Her joints gently grind and
suck and rock as she walks in rich
innocence toward the diving board, her
chest flat as a plank, the front of her
torso meek and raw as a kid’s, but her