She flexes
her body
fans her tail
mechanically
ambivalent
about neon pink
pebbles
mermaids
decomposing
driftwood.
Does she forget
in 3 seconds
like people say?
Wish she could
recall my eyes
only saw you
once, beautiful man.
I cast
you out
repeatedly
taking note
of times
her swimming
ceased
to remember you
pleading
from vacant
midnight
to blurry mourning
Her strokes
stayed even
even when you
slammed
the last door.
Her swishing fins
nothing more than
rhythmic begging
I would change
the water
from cold
to content.
My experiment
simulated life
in her bowl
of cloudy longing
on replay like
50 Last Dates.
So I’ll take
Goldie
jewelry shopping
tomorrow
so she never
forgets another
second
of regret.
Dana Kinsey is a writer, actor, and teacher published in Writers Resist, One Art, Broadkill Review, Fledgling Rag, Silver Needle Press, Porcupine Literary, Sledgehammer Lit, West Trestle Review, Prose Online, and Teaching Theatre. Dana's play, WaterRise, was produced at the Gene Frankel Theatre. Visit wordsbyDK.com or tweet @wordsbyDK.