Some People Feel Free at the Beach

by Robin Myers

Why? This one was flat as an inlaid
headstone. It glittered like zirconia.
The sun seemed mostly interested
in exacting consequences.

I guess it’s not the ocean’s fault
that it keeps everything from
everything else. But I couldn’t not
imagine everyone around me in uniform.

It was the sort of place where that
was a logical thing to do. And where
I didn’t stay long enough to watch the tides
be tides, or remember the moon.


Robin Myers lives in Mexico City and works as a translator. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Yale Review, the North American Review, Alaska QuarterlyPoetry Northwest, and elsewhere. Her book-length collections have been translated into Spanish and published in Mexico, Argentina, and Spain. She writes a monthly column on translation for Palette Poetry