at daybreak

to practice

long before school

and that his speed

and strength

in the water

are increasing.

SECOND THOUGHTS

Before today,

I was assured

and ready

to be outstanding,

to outsprint,

outstroke,

and outswim

my cousin

with ease

but with this new information

my outlook

on the outcome

has changed

and now

I worry

that I will be outmatched

by him

once again, and

I wonder

if I should pull out

of this

contest.

AND THEN I SEE AMA

glance at me

as she leaves the schoolyard

touching her lips

with a finger

giggling

then pointing it

at me

and in this moment of pleasure

I remember

that I am doing this thing

and no amount of fear

is going to stop me.

IN MY DREAM

my red tail beats

like a drum.

It sways

to and fro

in time

with the wave.

I am a snapper

bending its spine

pushing

through the water

like a sidewinding black cobra

in the forest.

Picture me

beneath the blue

both legs

swishing side to side

swimming faster

than I have ever swum

before.

Going

Going

Gone.

A torch

in the sky

blazes, and

somewhere

a dawdling fish—eating

lunch, perhaps—is

caught

in a net,

while his friends watch.

THE NEXT DAY

Most times we swim

our heads up

slicing the water

with our feet.

But what if I kicked

side to side, like this,

I explain to Ebo,

twisting my body

from left to right,

coiling

and curving

my arms

like a snake.

You had a dream that you were a snakefish? he says.

I dreamt, I answer, of the way to beat my cousin.

THE FISH KICK

Ebo counts

as I swim

to the big rock

doing my normal stroke,

but on the way back

I break into my new kick

keeping my head

above water,

my arms tight

out front,

and I feel myself

speeding toward

the shore.

This is impossible, he says, looking puzzled.

What?

Usually, to the big rock and back, the count is between 110 and 120.

What did you count to today?

…

CHALE! What is my count?

Eighty-nine.

Ei!

You are going to smoke him, Kofi.

That is the plan, Ebo. That is the plan.

MANHOOD

Maame comes

into my room

sits at the foot

of my bed

while I practice reading

and reminds me

for the hundredth time

that I am expected

to prepare

a praise song

about growing up

for the crossover

ceremony

that concludes my initiation.

Then she takes my book away

rubs my scalp

and sings to me,

like she used to

at bedtime

when I was a small boy.

Before she leaves,

she asks what I would like special

to eat

at my born day party,

and I tell her

lots of boiled plantains,

but please

No. More. Yams.

And we both laugh.

RIVER RUN

After my chores

I spend the rest

of the afternoon

practicing my fish kick

in a stream

that I thought only Ebo

and I knew about.