You say we will pretend our drinks are sea water
and we will drink to our records and that bitch
who did the better butterfly.
Your brother’s car smells like rebellion,
our hair like chlorine.
The car hits on your side.
I see your neck break on the dashboard,
a wave crashing on the sand and I think,
I’m sorry you never got your first taste
of something other than seaweed and fish eggs.
We are underwater as they lift me to a stretcher.
I see your parents until I realize they’re just strangers
on the street, watching you, watching me,
like they’ve never seen something like us before.
Salt burns my scissored skin.
Our breasts wash up against the lips of a scalpel,
the silver metal shimmering through our blue blood.
The surgeon says I’m lucky,
I’ll go back to being who I was before. I look to you
in your hospital bed, see your heart monitor run dry.
I know better, we have lost our tails.
Nothing yet.
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