The Swim by Lena Jones ‘20

The Swim

Here we stand Beneath storm clouds Fit to break Into ember-sized shards And wind Yanking out limbs From beneath Our sins Hanging off our backs like vines These sins They cover then stare at mine But sins That never seeped from my skin Yet bite my heels to shame my kick All the Earth knows of Hissing serpents Sent to kiss my achilles goodnight And nature still gifts mice to them while All gravity pulls me toward the tectonic discs Ever shifting, poised for the penultimate spark Of an aftershock They abandon ship When the storm clouds rupture and Spikes drizzle into my eyes like One speck is all it will take I watch my friends stroke through surf Like bonafide sea snakes Like gluttons savoring chocolate cake And they somehow twist to glare at me When waves steer them below the deck

I swear to God I might be next––A whiff of mustard seed over salt So toe in water, Down I go And now Now I know the storm Its ammunition’s nearly thinner Than the clouds Spewing barrages of false fire I know the swim is necessary

But I think I’ll take the boat right with me Sometimes bathing feels like drowning That’s what my mother always says I see sunspots with every heave The water stings so sweetly I think I tell myself the statement’s true––But bodies hate honesty So I ache. One arm parts gnarled waves One hand clutches my nice boat And I know We’ll both emerge on a shore To a place where winds whisper everything will be okay And where storm clouds only ever break by daylight By some miracle So stare, stare, you waterlogged mutineers At a girl who breathes this water like air so fresh Swims like she swims for her life at its best