whose head reflects the persistent sun like a shark’s eye or pearlescent inside of a conch. i noticed immediately despite the banana boat stench & slap of the repetitive tide.
remember the summer, the whole beach closed due to a stranded whale? its eyes drifting closed & crusting with sand.
its body too heavy, too cumbersome for local ships to haul away & tie down with explosives, they buried it slowly grain of sand after grain of sand.
the danger of possibility. it’s not a myth: whales can explode under the right conditions. a woman leans under my umbrella & says get well soon to my body, bubbling open.
Taylor Garrison holds a BA in history from Muhlenberg College. She is a 2020 Bucknell Seminar for Undergraduate Poets fellow. Taylor's work can be found in the Adroit Journal, Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle, and elsewhere. Follow her at @taygarrs on Instagram or Twitter.