after Eduardo C. Corral I pull myself together out on the ocean surf after the boy texts about a dream he had, a dream where we were flirting with another guy, or he was flirting with us. I’ve already written this poem, but the boy told me to write about the dream, about the jealousy he felt when the guy sent me a thirst trap: a body like no other in a swimsuit. I’ve already written this poem, but sea brine shivers my skin, thoughts rippling through me, streams of air from his opening lips; as chill envelops, the arms of some ocean god, I imagine us swimming together, nimble as dolphins— am I not his animal? We flicker through the water, kissing with the bite of salt before I wake up from the dream. ____
Reuben Gelley Newman (he/him) is a writer and musician from New York City. His work is available in diode, DIALOGIST,Hobart Pulp, and elsewhere. He was a Fall 2020 intern at Copper Canyon Press and works in the library at Williams College in Williamstown, MA. He tweets @joustingsnail.