Poetry
1 min
Marine Ancestor
Megan Stolz
First sponge bath screams, cold
air after wet washcloth. Once
umbilical cord is lost, first
submersion in warm water, a return
to a nine-month swim. Perhaps our first
known sound is a splash. My
pregnant body preferred water:
balance, grace, buoyancy—
my limbs could move as
I'd remembered. When my
two-year-old wears floaties, she
is fearless, her body propelled
in liquid freedom while, fishlike,
her older brother somersaults
backwards and forwards underwater.
I swear I've spotted flippers.
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