Written by Zoe Cunniffe
it boils, boils, boils:
on the hot sand, scuttling like a crab, golden and simmering.
red-hot florida sun and wash-clean water rippling against
my ankles in the dripping dark. a mirage of a weight on my back:
this year and its pacing, how i uncoiled myself from my spine
and studied my edges until every inch of grit shone like magma.
here i am, face reflected in the blue sky, sea splashing, and i am
only here. here in these shredded white shorts. here with waving arms,
pirouetting on the shoreline, tangling my hair. all of my aching gleams
like the saltwater on my skin. the nights spent crying numb in the shower,
the quiet car rides, staring placid out the window. here i am, only here,
under the april moon, the sky splitting open like a wound, and i can
touch it all—everything i have ever felt, bleeding from my bones.
here i am—alive, alive, alive!