[My Exercise Book At Twelve.] Poem by Thomas Kunst

MY EXERCISE BOOK AT TWELVE. An essay
About how my mother has grown larger
Too quickly. Mornings at the public pool.
The water is dirty. Changing takes a
While. First the pants, the shirt, the socks,
The undershirt, the bath robe with
Belt, loose knot, bow hinted at,
Pulling on down, the bathing trunks up,
Decent, spotted white, most of my
Hair where they do not belong.
The water tepid. Swans satisfied
In their own way.

Translated by Bradley Schmidt