#emmagoss

by Emma Goss

My mom believes

Dead people come back as birds. 

To find the ones they left behind, 

Appearing in the kitchen window  

And humming out the soft tune 

Only you know. 

To visit lost lovers,

Mothers and fathers, 

Friends who never heard a 

Goodbye.  

She believes the white heron 

Was him. 

His beastly eyes locking into hers,

Whispering to her heart, 

It’s okay. 

It’ll be okay. 

She believes the mallard was him. 

Stopping to drink from our 

Waterless fountain. 

His long grey wings resembling 

The dusty beard you once had. 

She believes that he drifted from the flock 

Just to say 

You found me. 

She believes not in God, 

Not in heaven 

Or grandma’s midnight prayers, 

Tossing coins into restaurant fountains, 

Making sure to blow out all the candles at once. 

She believes that

Dead people come back as birds. 

To hold her hand, 

Help swallow her grief. 

To make sure she never feels alone.

And to watch over us like pawns, 

Guiding us to the right moves, 

Right answers.  

I’ve tried so hard to convince her. 

Telling her that this 

In-between feeling, 

Would fade if she just

Gave up. 

But somehow, 

As I lay here now, 

Listening to the soft chirp 

Of the morning’s

Sparrow, 

by Emma Goss

That is not me. 

You try and catch my fleeing fins, 

But only come up with rotting gills. 

Skin that I shed just to deceive. 

Ha. 

You do not know how fast I could swim 

If I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder, 

Locking eyes with your devilish stare, 

Trying to avoid your 

Sharpened teeth. 

You do not know 

That I could puppet waves big enough to crush boulders. 

Scare the Great White. 

And the hairs on my neck wouldn’t flinch 

Half as much as your trembling fingers.  

You do not know me at all. 

You do not know how long it would take

To sink to the bottom of my mind. 

No breath could bring you back alive. 

It’s a sacrifice I know you’d never make, 

Because you do not trust a sea-ridden lover. 

You do not know how wonderful it would be

To breathe underwater with me. 

To not have to clench my chest as I watch you gamble on air. 

To be breathing with you, 

Instead of holding my breath, while you whisper yours,

freely. 

You do not know how marvelous it would be to 

Float 

Through darkest caves, 

Softest sands,   

With nothing but kelp guiding us through this 

Lost and lonely

Life. 

Because I am too extraordinary to not be swimming. 

I am too marvelous to be skipping when I could be flying. 

So no, 

You will never learn the language of my mind. 

Not until you hold your breath,