mother, should i build the wall?

julia-plante Poems

picture this: i'm 11. new macy's two-piece bathing suit. i like the colors. you hate my stomach. summer. "why can't i wear my new suit?" "because nobody wants to see a beached whale." i do not wear it to the beach. i dive into our golden lake, your tongue-blade muted among the surf. i am beautifully alone, but i do not wish to be. the silence is enough of a gift. you say "beached whale" and expect it to hurt, and it does. but not how you wanted. i am a beached whale. 16 years later a creature only meant to observe and love, i was pushed out of the water, to drown in your desert air. i am learning to swim again. i will break your harpoon.