7/14/2024 Poetry by Amy DeBellis Monika Murren CC
Brighton Beach in July So much sunscreen I’m sweating it off and it’s pooling in my collarbone and still a new freckle blooms every weekend and I’m ankle-deep in sand, rooted to the shoreline, my toes fighting the water for the beach. Tide like a bell tolling, dragging me in, pressing me back. I enjoy the instability. You tell me I look drunk. Later on I change back into real clothes in a bathroom stall that won’t latch, lock wobbling like a loose joint, sand clinging to every origami-fold of my body, each grain like the grit between my teeth when I grind my jaw in sleep. My dentist talked about nightguards and you showed me a video of masseter massages but I think I’d rather grate my jaw right down to the bone, crater my teeth to shattered nothings. Back in the sun, you buy us lemonades. Mine sticks my lips together, trickles corn syrup slow and sweet down my shorts, draws an unmistakable ceremony of flies. Remembering the Countryside During a Harlem Winter The end of snow means nothing in a city that’s sinking into the sea. A city where you keep glimpsing your long -dead friend in crosswalks and windows and subway cars, false stutter of memory gone rogue, a city where the strawberries are either $10 a pound or taste like the kind of water you shouldn’t be drinking. Where you can writhe awake all night and never know anything like silence. Standing in fake leather boots on garbage -stained pavement, recall the bug-bitten summers spent sunning in grass, blowing ants off wild blackberries, flitting in and out through a screen door hinged with rust. Recall the years spent learning and then forgetting the names of every flower. Looking for myself like hunting for ghosts. My past a sleeping animal, claws curled, heart cleft and narrow as the mouth of a rifle. Amy DeBellis is a writer from New York. Her writing has appeared in various publications including X-R-A-Y, Pithead Chapel, HAD, Write or Die, Fractured, Ghost Parachute, and Pinch. Her debut novel is forthcoming from CLASH Books (2025). Comments are closed.
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