Light decides to float on its back around the surface instead of looking inside. You should have seen the way Grandma ran and dove all in one motion
when you went under. One minute you’re flashing Little Mermaid floats, the next you’re vanished in a way that makes me question object
permanence. But you bobbed back up before any of us could even get to you. Hands in the air as if to say I am the drowner, not the drownee here.
Still, I wondered how we would have found you in all that copper water, lead-heavy and stamped with everything it wants to devour.
About the Poet
Kailey Tedesco is a recent Pushcart Prize nominee and the editor-in-chief of Rag Queen Periodical. She received her MFA in creative writing from Arcadia University. She’s a dreamer who believes in ghosts and mermaids. You can find her work in FLAPPERHOUSE, Menacing Hedge, Crack the Spine, and more. For more information, visit kaileytedesco.com.