Plum Island, August · Jennifer S. Flescher

On Plum Island the sand descends
as if the world ends
and the sea takes on the hue of deep
close to the shore.

We drifted in the calm
built a castle
found fractured purple mussel shells.

You had just come home, hollowed.
If we slept at all it was huddled
in nightmares.
You’d grown tall and small at once.

You made friends with a girl half your age
and the two of you played
with the breath of the sea.
I watched you almost laugh.

You said you wanted to go there
to make me feel better. I had that feeling
on the raft of that day.


Jennifer S. Flescher's work has appeared in or is forthcoming in journals including Poetry Magazine, Lit, The Harvard Review, Poetry Daily and the Blog for the Best American Poets. All of these poems are in the full-length manuscript, Whale Autopsy, which was a finalist in the year's Sawtooth Prize. For ten years she edited and published Tuesday; An Art Project.

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