Poetry

Stabbing Jellyfish and Getting Away With It

Published in Red Ogre Review 

 

 

Our feet sink into sand

as the ocean spits up seaweed

tied in knots impossibly hard

to grasp with our toes,

turning us into sea

beasts as well.

 

Amid the rubbery jewels

I notice that silvery hands

sprawl unplucked. Those

once deadly tentacles

are now just helpless threads

tangled in seaweed:

 

bodies torn away from hands,

finally free from poison,

no longer the fearsome creatures

from the stories I read when I was six.

 

You watch me in silence

while I pick up a stick

to sink into the soap-like bodies.

 

I've never done this before,

this exhilarating exploration,

so I'm confused when my eyes

collide with yours,

 

my smile greeted by a frown

when I pass the stick

and you shake your head no.

 

Later I'll watch you

disappear down the sunlit road;

I'll remember your disappointment

reflected in their glinting skin.

 

Stabbing your small stick

into dead tissue won't hurt it.

 

You know you can.