The way some fish fly up
into the sky, pretending,
aspirating, fern-patterns
on their sides, you would think
they’d never go back
to the true homey comfort
of the sea. We all step
beyond ourselves sometimes,
try on new faces, risk
terrible things that asphyxiate
and cripple, but oh oh
the glory of the sun on your back
the unfamiliar air
the moment when you wonder
if maybe you won’t go back
even if this maims you.
Sara Eddy’s second full-length poetry collection, How to Wash a Rabbit, is forthcoming from Cornerstone Press. She is also the author of Ordinary Fissures (2024) and two chapbooks: Full Mouth (2020) and Tell the Bees (2019). Her poems have appeared in many online and print journals, including Threepenny Review, Raleigh Review, Sky Island, and Baltimore Review, among others. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, in a house built by Emily Dickinson’s cousin.