Kettle Pond

Long past the month 
of frogspawn
tadpoles loiter 
startle, disappear 
to deeper water. 

Young trout
with vomerine teeth 
churn silt, bullfrog eyes 
hover in the cattails. 

Yes, says my daughter, 
we’re going swimming. 

Tendrils trace our legs, something 
solid taps our thighs.

Probably leeches in here,
she says. 

On the opposite bank, sun 
warms our unmasked bodies
we sit on the weedy earth 
compare the length of our toes

a few ragged daylilies 
with throats to the sky 

and here, this moment

my daughter and I sunbathe 
on a sluice
of astonishing sand.

GRACE MASSEY

Grace Massey is a poet, dancer, and socializer of feral cats. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband, Michael, and a formerly feral cat, Penelope. Grace has degrees in English from Smith College and Boston University. Her poems have been published in numerous journals, including Quartet, Thimble, RockPaperPoem, and One Art.