Aug 312012

by Anne Whitehouse


Fifty years ago my sister

got stung by a jellyfish,

and she hasn’t gone back in the ocean.

I’ve never been stung so much

that I wouldn’t go back.


In green waters suspended with sand,

soft-bodied swimmers I cannot see

brush against me as I glide by.


Just imagine—not ever going under,

always in air and not in water,

never feeling the wonder

of an alien element all around.