<\/p>\n
Yesterday at the kitchen sink, my lover told me again
\nhow I can\u2019t do it right\u2014load the dishwasher, wash the cast iron.
\nNo soap, no scrubbing. My hands submerged in water, scalding.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Today, I\u2019d rather be a fish. Scales, gills, unblinking eyes. Curl
\naround the toxic tentacles of that blooming mass: the anemone.
\nBrilliant orange and white stripes against the rainbow of reef.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
None of that anxiety that dwells in the stomach, hollows it out, drops
\nit to the knees. The way my lover yelled when I panicked\u2014
\nshook and shimmied. Too much, too much.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Too much pressure from the weight of water above,
\nbut not feeling the ear-popping ascent from the depths of
\nthe sandy floor. Water crushing bones. A whole sea of it to live in.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019d like to be a shark. A predator. Free in my own kingdom.
\nBeast so ancient, so full of its own history, so full of its
\nown instinct. So full. So unlike the way I am. Sitting on the edge<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
of the bed now, my lover beyond a slammed door. I wonder
\nwhat it is to escape something. Where it is I could go. Beyond
\nthe twist of whitewater, the shallow sand shelf to the deep<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
underbelly of sea, cold dark infinite. Bliss, all that water, swimming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Allison Field Bell Yesterday at the kitchen sink, my lover told me again how I can\u2019t do it right\u2014load the dishwasher, wash the cast iron. No soap, no scrubbing. My hands submerged in water, scalding. Today, I\u2019d rather be a fish. Scales, gills, unblinking eyes. Curl around the toxic tentacles of that blooming […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":8407,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8406","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n