Seahorses
Remember when I almost drowned?
I don’t but I’d like to, my early childhood
Like a country made of vintage postcards,
Train station names chopped up like iceberg
For salad. Memories that I’ve made up—
Are they lies? Because I was trying to tell
The truth, based on the stories my mother told,
How I jumped in, fearless—into the pool,
Turquoise and chlorine making right angles,
Into the green ocean, my ocean, even now,
The one I keep trying to find again.
I don’t believe any of it—anxiety chased
My amygdala like a gold bangle, I was born
Watching to see when it would go wrong.
My mother is a playwright and the blocking
Is better if the little girl is willing to leap
And must be rescued. The pool deck was full
Of women oiled to catch the sun, too many to cast.
If it was never true, do I need to finish
The line? I’d like to know. Before we swim,
I tell my daughters, the ocean doesn’t care
About you, but I do. I dream of drowning,
But I’ve always woken up before I can decide
If resignation makes it a nightmare.
Daisy Bassen is a psychiatrist and poet. She has been published in several journals, including Oberon, Adelaide Literary Review, and The Delmarva Review, nominated for two Pushcart Prizes, and lives in Rhode Island with her family.