The bay smells of fish,
\nlife drenched in its own salt.
\nSails lift their shark fins
\nfrom the waves.
\nYou cut scraps of wood
\ninto boats,
\nfashion tinfoil sails
\nand push them carefully to the waves.
\nA flotilla of ships,
\nthe sky falling on us,
\nfather and son,
\nthe wind cutting our faces.
\nYou never changed.
\nYou melted away when I turned my head.
\nI screamed in the loneliness
\nyou left.<\/p>\n
I never go there anymore.
\nI have not seen that jetty in years.
\nBut the stones bare themselves
\nto the water\u2019s endless pounding
\nand keep me awake.
\nI am so afraid when I remember,
\nwhen I hear the sound,
\nremember my father
\nlooking into the distance,
\nas if something were buried there
\nthat drowned,
\nover and over again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The bay smells of fish, life drenched in its own salt. Sails lift their shark fins from the waves. You cut scraps of wood into…<\/p>\n