Betty Draper

in the summers
i grew little gills
sometimes also,

my mother
would urge me
onto land for
she would cock
her head sideways
on a beach, on a

“are you coming
in?”  I’d yell
through a slur
of wet lips.

“maybe later”
she’d say “come

mother never
grew gills like me.

she never lost
herself in

& if she did
come in,
I would loom,
my hair clouded

she’d say “okay,
I see you. go play.
I don’t want
my hair getting wet.”

6 thoughts on “Betty Draper

  1. This was fantastic, I could imagine everything as a story, reminiscing and the jellyfish-hair really gave a special feeling as an image.

  2. I dig this. Some of the most ripe moments come from the smallest occurrences. Your line about the hair floating, ominous, captures that perfectly, I think–implies that something greater is at work here. Cheers!

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