Sheila Rabinowitch

Once I swam naked in the Mediterranean. In this aged body I am too shy. Sometimes at night I sneak out from my Catskill retreat, slide into the cool lake. Neighbors can’t see me in the dark. As weeds tug my feet I kick past their tangling strands pulling me under. No one sees my crow’s feet or sagging skin. I turn on my back, follow the moon—