Salt Water for sore throats Amanda Hodes
What were you thinking when you took her hand? A pale blue as though no skin lied between you and the ocean, Plunkbut no splash as you submerged yourself in her turbulent waters that you housed yourself in and claimed in the same way you clawed your books into your caving chest. Gaspingfor the dusty air, just so you could feel it get caught inside your scratching throat, among other things, like to then wash it down with water, the kind you tried to love, but never drank without a reason, Sputteringup bubbles beneath her waves, and flailing to the surface, because try as you might, you couldn’t grow gills, and as much as you drowned yourself, as much as you inhaled the library grime, you couldn’t buy a book big enough to house your expectations and self-righteous morals or your fears that overflow her ocean, the kind of ocean you only ever swam in when the sun was too sweltering for your translucent body, Sizzlingunder the heat of any and everything you couldn’t control, so you drenched yourself in her, caught yourself up in the tangles of her grabbing hair, shoved deep into the dark trencwhes of the ocean, spitting out saltwater to take in moreAll to wash out the dust from your itching throat and reemerge wheezing and searching for more hands to pull you up above the surface, but hide you from the light.
fall 2015
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