Girls

Danyah Shaikh

Girls are running on their toes, towards the New England shore.
Cotton tights damp from wading in the sea, leaving behind footprints on the wooden pier.
Further up on the pier you pause.
Stand up on your toes to look down, over the rail into 
the ocean sloshing beneath the pier.
With eyes closed, inhale, let the wind tangle your dark hair. 

What if we all jumped in?
What if each of us swam out to the ships? 
Had your tulle dresses melt into the pale blue ocean? Yours is already the color of sea foam.
You’d all become jellyfish.
If you were to jump, you could sip the salt water, clean the backs of your throats.
You could fall asleep together, limp beneath the pier, waiting to be pulled out to sea.
Oh to be one of many.