they show me how to grip the plastic mouthpiece between my teeth / how to equalize the pressure in my ears / there was I am told a massive bleaching event in 2005 / a decade later I am greeting the skeleton of someone I am meeting for the first time / I am seeing the ravaged calcium carbonate bones / chalk-white under fathomish jewel-blue / and dust on crab shells and fish mouths and salt tears on my lashes licked away by the sea / I hold my breath I clear my ears I grieve I grieve I grieve / it shouldn’t have been like this / my body swam an elegy / it shouldn’t have been like this
©
Natasha King is a Vietnamese American writer and nature enthusiast currently living in North Carolina. Her poetry has appeared in Oyster River Pages, Okay Donkey, Ghost City Review, and others. She spends her spare time writing, prowling, and thinking about the ocean. She can be found on Twitter as @pelagic_natasha.
Not so much into the whole dive / snorkel thing myself, but your work here clearly takes me down there with you & I thoroughly enjoyed the read. Thanks. I’m lucky to be included in this issue, with such outstanding works. Salute!