How I
wanted to be
a coin diver calling
to steamship ferry passengers
above.
Oak Bluffs
on a hot day
in July, the sixties
were winding down, filled with rusted
edges.
But my
mother said no.
I learned to hold my breath
for ages underwater in
protest.
My ears
couldn’t handle
the pressure. Jellyfish
stings. Heads nor tails, not my story
to tell.
