I remember the wave

a lime green inner tube.

my lips are salty and i’m in too deep to touch,

above me, blue, below me, blue.

the sea bunches and swells

in anticipation and I clutch the tube,

ready to coast back to shore,

where my parents drown in margaritas

where my sister’s doomed sandcastle

will be besieged by the water that holds me now.

it falls on me like judgment

pulls me down into the ocean’s heart

the tendrils of seaweed monsters wrap around my ankles.




until up is down and left is right

everything blue and salty and stinging

there’s no me anymore, only open water.

why be afraid?

it only wants to rock me to sleep.

The ocean whispers Open

and I open.

Eve Clark is a senior Creative Writing major at Agnes Scott College. When they're not reading or writing, they can be found listening to true crime podcasts and embroidering. Some day they hope to be a successful enough author to provide for their cat, Freddie.