Troy Coll
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Whirlpool
My first memory of dirt is the grit
on the slick plastic floor of Maw Maw’s
above-ground pool. Too small
to swim, I hold my breath and
sink crouch leap
I break the blue meniscus
to the smell of cut grass
charcoal and Virginia Slims.
I inch along the rail as the bigger kids
swim and anyone tall enough
to walk walks around the edge in
the same direction we make
a current a wave a churning swirl
that pulls the pool toys and the paddling pets
towards its center, belying the belief
that there is safety in separation.
Moms and and cousins and even
Great Aunt Barbara, tight dyed-brown curls
under a swim cap, body nothing
but belly and ass, spindly legs sticking
from her floral one-piece, marching
across the floor of the pool, cigarette hand
held high and to the left, laughing, yelling
at her nephew to fix her a hot dog, barbecue chips
and a Dr. Pepper.
__________
Sometimes Good Things Happen
after Garth Greenwell
In preschool, on the playground
in winter.
I don’t know why mama left me here.
Nose running, swingset chains
scalding my palms.
Another child took my hands
into hers
put them to her mouth
breathed through her mittens
to keep us both from freezing.
Someone did that for her.
Someone taught her how
to help another body
stay warm. Taught her that
there is no need to endure.
Please forgive me
if I repeat myself.
I have only one thing to say
which is that we are dying
and I love you.
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Troy Coll (he/him) is a poet, software engineer, and unrepentant jaywalker based in East Nashville. Born in New Orleans and raised in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, he’s lived multiple lives as a forklift driver, bartender, and produce packer. His work has been published in SWING Magazine, Stanchion, and the Esthetic Apostle, and his poem “wild tomatoes” won first place in the 2025 Tomato Art Fest poetry competition.
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Posted in Vignettes: A Literary Photo Album : JUL '26 and tagged in #boudin, #poetry, Poetry