When We Were Children We Believed the Night Herons Moving Across the Marsh Were Versions of Ourselves
We raised ourselves
over the starboard side, our shoes soaked
from crossing beds of eelgrass.
One girl’s face was broad with scars
like threaded silk. We took turns
smelling her hair and touching her eyelids,
and when she asked, we carved our initials
into the boat’s innards and pressed blades into our palms,
pressing blood to blood.… Read the rest