Have you ever seen a bird hover just over the shallow of a lake
Balancing on the wind that whips my baby hairs across my face and carries a storm that makes me hurry home

Floating like a fishing bobber both weighted yet weightless 
Just waiting for something to drag it under

The worm is not strong enough but I imagine its body writhing like a water moccasin and moving through the murk

I imagine the sound of the fishing wire unraveling like the tearing of fabric but longer and determined

For something so small, it really scared me as a kid 
My hands feverishly digging through dirt to please my dad
My stomach would turn and I’d place the ribbed and slimy wires in a styrofoam cup and wash my hands in the pool 

At the edge of the dock I’d hang my bare feet over alligators and ask my parents, “can they jump?”
But before they answered I’d lift and crisscross my legs on the wood panels 

But I often feel like that —
Just waiting to be dragged under

Molly Wallace is new to Boulder and pursuing graphic design and 2D Art.

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