Sweet when we float on the lake out of town,

I ask Vera how she feels with the tumor

like a sea anemone twisting on her heart.

Tentacle-arms wave little fronds. But I don’t want

to know any more—the urchin glowing through

rib cage and shirt—I swallow worry like a pill.

Vera tries to answer what it really feels like

and we remember the waiter dumping water

onto a woman with food poisoning, crawling

to find refuge on her hands and knees. Splash.

Like getting a spider down a sink. Splash.

Not thinking about pain until after it’s over.

Yes, Vera said. It’ll go away but it’ll still be

messy. We envy our cousins back at the cabin

who tie the boat to the dock with ease.

Everything is supposed to be smoother

at the lake. Vera and I rest against ropes

untied, already bending into time-built knots.

Gwenyth Wheat (she/her), nominee for Best New Poets 2024, is currently an MFA and MA candidate at McNeese State University. Her work has been nominated for multiple Pushcart Prizes in Poetry and has appeared in Great Lakes Review, The Poet’s Touchstone, Voicemail Poems, ZAUM, and elsewhere. She is currently a writing instructor and the Poetry Editor for The McNeese Review.