Sometime between my birth and the present

Leaving this island, where the Sauks are no more . . .

It's true that I got my first period at the Freud museum

Sweltering heat. nearly empty car. red laces on blue Nikes lean against a pole.

Sorry to mention the chorus of cicadas / and the constellations of fireflies

Nebraska has a bakery for early souls.

Youth, greedy for beauty, / Squanders it carelessly.

You shark-circle me, I know, But I am in my own ocean, Lying in hushed dark blue and looking up To the curve of the tail of my blue whale.

This morning the world tried its best to tuck me back in.

. . . there's no doubt about it, it's pure naiad scorn.