after Maggie Smith
I sat at the edge of a lake, willing itto be an ocean, to spill itself forth,garlands of pearls waiting to wraparound my ankles and pull me in–except the freshwater kind wouldunwither themselves in the salt,become round and whole andsilvered, their iridescence bendingaround the body, the curve of thewaiting sand. I'll become bodiedthis way, full and blue as the mooncupped in your palms, pulling at thetide, instead of this stillness,this murk, this landlocked mass. [End Page 54]
Mariel Fechik lives in Chicago, IL and works in a library. She sings for the band Fay Ray and writes music reviews for Atwood Magazine and Third Coast Review. She is a Best of the Net and Bettering American Poetry nominee and her work has appeared in Hobart, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Cream City Review, Yes Poetry, and others. She is the author of the micro-chapbook An Encyclopedia of Everything We've Touched (Ghost City Press, 2018).