hannah harris-sutro


some of us
swim better out past the breakers:
me, i like the crash

the roar and crash and power
of deep waves: i became a woman
in this shushing susurration of thunder.

listen, let me tell you
how it began
		you want to hear it, don’t you?

kit was in a punk-rock band
that played all-woman covers
in salty southern California bars:

she was an artist, a surfer and stylist
who taught me to jump
and float in waves taller than i was.

let me ask you a question—
how many sensations are your first time
at age five?

how much more vast
is this roiling
on baby-fine hairs, half-pint limbs?

some of us swim better out
past the breakers,
density and volume: something

to press against, pelvic floor
to engage occiput:
crowning mermaid babies.