The Liffey Swim

they move up the river
like a series of tears along
trouser leg seams; black water arrows
and opens in tide holes
behind: a nail on the surface
to crease. there is one of my friends
down there – he’s been given a handicap.
I watch through binoculars
for the 314 hat – eventually yell
when I see him. and he actually waves.
it's surprising; I though that my shout
would be swallowed by water
and distance. but a hand goes up, flaps
like a trouser leg hung off a washing
line. dunks itself forward.
the muscles on his back
move as dogs under duvets,
with purpose and push, getting
out. his arms rise and dive
taking fists of momentum
in fingers and pushing them back.