Don’t talk to me about the dam and the dreamscape and
spires scuba divers stand on like statues
of some long forgotten sea goddess.
Don’t talk to me about the flood
that devoured my hometown.
The stopped-up river swallowed the main street,
and our tails split into two
dislocated, we crawled onto the rocky shore.
In winter, we walk out onto the ice,
towards the island we can never reach in daylight.
You’ve never waded those half-drowned streets,
slick with snowmelt
but they flood my memories.
So don’t talk to me about magic
or the prayers I say to strange gods,
or the broken glass grinding in my knees,
or the language I speak in my dreams.
About the author:
Meep Matsushima is a poet and librarian. Her poetry has appeared in Strange Horizons, Microverses, Liminality Magazine, and other fine publications. Say “hi” on Twitter @meep_matsushima or read more of her poetry at http://meep-matsushima.neocities.org.
Discussing disabled characters in fairy tales and folklore!