Bathing in the Reflecting Pool

On sickly blue-green, rainbowed oil film clings
to this pond's surface. Though we watch in our
black slacks white shirts brushed hair clean faces,
what will you think of me, as I step in
and lay down, to float in these waters?
Slick and scum kiss my face and neck, I'm iridescent.
Silt-combed hair unspools, fanning,
     "Boys will be..." your excusement muttered distantly.
Algae & duckweed, beached, pools in pockets and folds and shirt creases. 
Now, if I were to drink,
     "That's unclean..." your plea to waterlogged ears. 
Image of heaven above lends length to my hair
and I play, run fingers 
through aquatic roots, my love. 
As I lose form, I am more perfect than Alexander,
mankind's conquest of nature dissolving with me.
This Gordian Knot untangled between leaves
its many true ends on the water's shore.
I sigh and bear neither 
sword nor rag to wipe blood from the wound.
Just these waters swimming in my clothes
and peace in our time. 
  

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