Winner of the 2025 S. Gordden Link Poetry Award
She was—
half a thing,
half a thought—
and then
gone,
a hand,
pale—
swallowed by the flood,
her breath caught on silence.
The water’s mouth,
wide and soft
as a lover’s,
pulled her with an ease
the earth had not.
Mermaid?
No—
not in the songs they sing.
Not in the myth.
Only the weight of it—
sinking,
sinking—
the world of soft flowers and cold
becoming unmade.
Her fingers—
broken petals in the current.
No one speaks of what she leaves behind—
the eyes,
still wet
with that last breath.