Beach Day by t. tran le

there are fantastic winds that move memory 
& I sweep easily into the sea 

it’s a good day & I don’t leave the sand 
I let the tide bury me 

slops of kelp keep me warm, a wiggling duvet 
I’ve always loved the taste of ocean

it leaks from the crust of dried squid
it pops out of oysters on the axis of my tongue

the seas merge in the wash of my mouth

I grow used to the sand under my spine 
The beach knows exactly how it curves 

I am here to dispute the impossibility 
of time travel— it takes it out of me

here is a projector with unrelenting reels
how do you navigate the terrain of your life 
by way of autobiographical cinema?

everyone knows what’s behind the screen: 
an arsenal of firecrackers

when you live in an inferno, the only flesh you know 
is raw & charred, a perfect cook

how long is the space between my hands 
& living? by which unit of measurement? by whose eye?

I have made a deity of the ground
my feet are soft when they press into floors & dirt

there are bounds to a collapse: 
eventually I will reach the earth

eventually I will give the occasion a name

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Contributor Notes

t. tran le is a poet from Texas. Their work has appeared in The Breakwater Review & 8 Poems. t. lives in Brooklyn with their partner & three cats.