Diving Horse Show, Ocean Park, California, 1927
	
She was swimming back to shore
from where she was made to jump into the ocean.
The breakers were rough and foaming,
and she turned her head toward the pier, searching for an easier way.
This was June. The telegram said she was spotted
heading out to open sea. A lifeguard’s boat
sped after her. She swam harder.
If there could be love without violence,
there would be no breakers or boat. There would be
no tower to dive from. Maybe
there would be a field with damp grass,
a handful of peppermints
and someone familiar standing by
when the rain fell harder.
The lifeguards tied a rope around her neck
and towed her back to the beach.
Woodsmoke hung in the salted air.
To envision the scene is to imagine
a storm hauled out of the ocean.
The horse, named after what she feared the most,
swam away from the kind of love she knew
and into its aftermath.