Alexandra Watson: I Found You Nearly Drowned

Photo: Joanna C. Valente

Faded

I found you nearly
drowned, your silky hair draped

my shoulder. It was a dusk
of Don Q and pineapple juice. We sat

on two towels, reading, sand all
in our toes, our private patch. You ran

then splashed, opened up your
chest to let the tide in. My limbs

rum-slow, my feet buried, the blue
the same for miles. Then, trying

to remember CPR. I held
your solid body.           Our long nights

nibble at my brain like flies
on a fruit tree leaf. We’d creep up

to the roof in ballet flats with Camels,
filters flavored like candy. I dredge up

all our mixtapes, IMs, DVDs:
Gladiator, Fight Club–you loved

watching men tear men apart.
Now, you’re the reason I have no

bridesmaid, why I pick up the
phone to call the air. 

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Alexandra Watson is the executive editor of Apogee Journal, a publication dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices. She is a full-time Lecturer in the English department at Barnard College. Her fiction, poetry, and interviews have appeared in Nat. Brut., Breadcrumbs, Redivider, PANK, Lit Hub, and Apogee. She’s the recipient of the PEN/Nora Magid Prize for Literary Magazine editing. Find more of her work at alexandrawatson.net.