I swim around your boat for days before
I catch your eye. On deck, the sun so bright
it blocks your face just long enough to lure
my head around these blinding rays and right
into your pirate heart. My tail begins
to flip against the waves, and I cannot
pretend I don’t belong to you. The end
for me is not a hook or net. You caught
me with a look. My trembling hands descend,
before my captain now. Your hook overcomes
exposes half a girl. My piscine end
on board transformed, subdued. The sun
so warm against us while we rock and float.
New legs you touch first, always on this boat.
Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola. Her poetry has been featured in Anti-Heroin Chic, Fourth & Sycamore, Mookychick, Moonchild Magazine, Occulum, Faded Out and many other publications. Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie and her website: kristingarth.wordpress.com.
Foxglove Journal 