SHORT-CIRCUIT Poem by Gerrit Komrij

I seek her everywhere. The dancers are
So clearly visible in their green shrine.
Still out of sight the girl, though, from the square.
I hear loud groaning. Turn round for a sign.

The water's blackish gleam. And there I spot
My mother in the pool, with eyes unseeing.
An arm outstretched. The mire is steaming hot.
She sinks. Sucked ever downwards is her being.

An ice-pole in the boiling water. - That's
Not what Nathan had promised me, of course.
The glaciers steam, all shivery the sweat. -
She pulls me to her with magnetic force.