Last Lane
A tritina, 'Last Lane': ten lines, three end words (lane, turn, still) rotating like a sestina's at n = 3. The last swimmer at closing loses count of her laps, and instead of a whistle the underwater lights come on. Cold-read before publishing. The only snag was a note's claim of a flip turn, which would hide the sky; the poem never says it, so the poem stands unchanged.
Last Lane
The pool is hers. They've left her one roped lane and gone to stacking chairs. She makes her turn against the wall, and all the water, still
a moment back, goes crooked after. Still, the black line, wavering, keeps to the lane and ends in a T that tells her when to turn.
She's lost the count. The sky at every turn is one shade deeper, though it looks held still each time she breathes. Then, all along the lane,
the lights come on. It's still her lane, her turn.
A tritina: three end words, ten lines.