Shimmering
Written by Sarah Birch - June 7th, 2025
I’m as poor as my parents pretended they weren’t
when they installed the pool.
We prayed to crickets, wished selfishly
as children often do.
Little heads crane to watch the descent
whilst chewed fingernails tear outgrown baby hairs.
The blue diamond struts, shimmering over the roof.
Nobody tells you how quickly a prayer enters the air.
We settle into our forever homes
and fill our cups.
Forgive us for leaving the light on
we thought you might still show up.
Later, gems morph into plastic shells.
Smaller and cheaper.
Bygone product from a time
when imagination ran far deeper.
Still within reach, that blue jewel.
For the girls who taught one another French braids.
Please, just remember, no matter where you are:
We can always play mermaids.
'Shimmering' began as an exploration back into suburbia. I have recently left my childhood home and things that were once commonplace have transformed into something new — pools have become portable shells. These changes were fast and I felt my childhood dripping through my fingers. This poem serves as a reminder that what was isn't gone.
- Sarah Birch