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.