Lesson at Birch Bay by Adria Libolt

On the beach, I gather clam shells with cousins
discarding cracked remnants.

Dad calls for the swimming lesson,
I dread, dig my feet in sand, covered, stuck

Waves wash over my excuse,
leaving no trace.

I lie shivering stiff in salty warm
shallow waters of Birch Bay, Dad’s hand
under my back assuring me I can float.

Greedy waves’ fingers
slimy with seaweed from the briny murk
find my mouth, nose, gasping, drowning.

Like tides, my trust ebbing, disappears
a sun falling below the horizon.

At dusk, wrapped in towels,
we toast marshmallows,
over a disintegrating log

crumbling with dying embers,
casting reflections
on Dad’s wistful smile.

regretting the way I cling to shore’s safety,
I watch, envying the reckless, still bobbing in waves

splashing for their lives, gulping breaths
to stay under in dead man floats.

Adria Libolt

Libolt lives in Bellingham, WA. and taught high school, and later, community college while working in prisons as a deputy warden. Her book about those experiences was published in 2012 by Wipf & Stock. In 2019 White Bird Publications published her book Food: An Appetite for Life. She has published essays, and poetry, some in anthologies.

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Strawberry Milkshakes with the Birdman of Alcatraz by Layla Ormbrek