Shadorma 150
Chapter one:
She slipped. Swimming pool
locker room
the tile floor
puddled. Chapter two: She fell.
The story stops here.
1/3/19
Haiku 643
a few too many
sleet pellets accumulate
Line the sidewalk cracks
1/7/19
Shadorma 152
At the gym
paunchy man punching
halfhearted
flailing shots
at the bag swinging mildly
from the ceiling hook.
1/10/19
Shadorma 153
Slight and bent
an elf of a man
he set off
small feet in
small sneakers and careful steps
Lap one of forty
1/10/19
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
That first one–chilling to me.
Thank you. You may know I was a competitive swimmer growing up and spent a lot of time in locker rooms. I was always a little cautious especially if I didn’t have my glasses on as I came out of the pool, because I am extremely nearsighted to the point of I couldn’t see my feet or the floor pretty much at all. But you’re young and you don’t worry too much, right? Fast forward all these years and for some reason I was thinking about how the wet floor felt under my feet back then and now, my take was different…what if …? Being older supplied a feeling to the memory, that of narrow escape, or … not.
Oh, interesting.
And also that you didn’t mind swimming competitively when you couldn’t see. I’m pretty nearsighted, though maybe not as bad as you, and I would not like that at all!
What a great collection of poems describing different modes of human movement. I once split my head open on the tiled floor of a swimming pool so that one made me judder at the memory.