So… are you surprised that I didn’t get Creative Writing Wednesday off the ground in time? No? Me neither! But here it is, better late than never. I wrote this for my poetry class. It’s not finished, but it will do for now.
Thanks to Picnik and Flickr Creative Commons search for making this button possible
The First Death in New Jersey
Under the boardwalk, the dead
fish float, bloated
and bloody, leftover hooks
in their chins. We leaned
through the rails, crushing
our stomachs against the wood,
to count them, in the
I wore a bikini, the last
I smoked sugar
cigarettes with Chiefs
on the boxes. We bought them clandestinely,
when our parents
thought we were buying
gummy worms and rock pops.
I let them hang from my mouth,
with fake bravery, as I tried
my cousin’s accent.
In that last summer,
I saw my first dead body. We ran
from the dunes,
where we were lost in the desert,
to the crowd that had already gathered
around the girl.
The lifeguard tried to pump life
back into her body, counting
one two three. One, two, three.
Maybe her face was blue
or her ribs were broken, but all I remember
is the bathing suit – purple, with little yellow flowers.
The lifeguard stopped trying.
A small woman I hadn’t noticed before
sank next to the body.
It was all a spectator sport,
and we were only the rubberneckers.
That ending needs some work, my friends.