Back to Issue Fifty

Tide

BY JESSICA GREENBAUM

 

As it turned out, it was not the most
Beautiful day at the beach. Seaweed, in late August
Came at me in waves as though shredded by someone quite
Determined in June and July. Everything,
Everything was shredded because my daughter’s personal ocean
Flayed the fabric of her life (as I had known it)—
Gone was the untouchable memory of holding her
Here, in the waves in the shower’s cold rinse.
I write this to no one. Only to
Jess, holding her when the tide left salt’s signature on our skin and
Kites dallied like the gulls in currents, waves
Lobbed one thought after another. Today, the beach designed
Metaphors of deconstruction; the past turned inside out like an umbrella
Nearly knocking down the toddler, as, uprooted, it cartwheeled
Over the sand. Anything could happen now that the
Past flung itself to the wind, hope
Quit whatever post it had held, a clearer, sweeter
Reality fled south with the tide while the
Sand in our food, our bag, our clothes
Told a story of how things break down, and I
Understood the settled law of memory now carried no
Veracity.
What was left? An
X-childhood?
Your own life?
Zenith, where, now?
Your move. Sometimes
X denotes railroad tracks that go both ways.
What will the girl in the moon dictate? As the tide of
Veracity rinses our toes it makes it
Understood that a single day’s conditions also
Tells a reversed story; how the
Sand might be crumbs of memory that never leave us in
Reality, how the lifeguard, leaving her post, hasn’t
Quit, not forever. She was my daughter, looking out over her
Past, the sun set, and she would take a break
Overnight, though the night might be
Nearly a decade, and then return, her own
Metaphors like a game of catch
Lobbed back to her own oceanic imagination.
Kites dally above; they are her friends. Also floating above is me
Jess, just one of the people who love her, and
I become a magic seagull to grant her wishes, waiting
Here, the rest of the swimmers
Gone. Another day the water will be clear. What seems de-
Flating is just the breathing out. Surely
Everything cannot be lost if she who remembers is
Determined to breathe in what beauty
Came at her in waves for years, the most
Beautiful day at the beach, even that, not all a day at the beach
As nothing can be like that, say the beautiful shells.

Jessica Greenbaum is the author of three books of poems. Her most recent, Spilled and Gone, was named a Best Book by The Boston Globe in 2021, She is also the co-author of Tree Lines: 21st Century American Poems, and Mishkan HaSeder, the first ever poetry haggadah. She has received awards from the NEA and the Poetry Society of America and the title poem of her working manuscript, “Each Other Moment,” will appear in Best American Poems 2024.

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