Poem: Filtering

A poem about pools. And fathers and sons. And filtering…

Richard’s dad said to Richard’s mum that he would like
to see their son. So, Richard’s mum called up the stairs
to let us know that was the plan. This was the way

the communications flowed in this house; always uphill.
Richard told me he had to go and see his dad out back
in the garden, by the pool. When I wondered why,

he scowled and told me this was thei…