Written by Esmé Kaplan-Kinsey
I was in a bathroom stall in fourth grade
when I was struck by the inescapable fact that,
barring tragedy, I would one day be twenty-two.
The clarity of it made me sick: I washed my hands
woozy, hands I’ve scrubbed one thousand times since.
What if I was waiting on a shipwreck of a life?
That’s what threw me for a loop:
I knew it would happen to me anyway. That day
the future was certain and inscrutable.
Now I’ve arrived. I’ve walked the topography
of all that dizzying possibility.
I don’t know if that’s improved the nausea
or if I’ve just learned better how to keep my feet
beneath me.
When I was very young, my father told me stories
of working on a crab boat. The first few days
were all seasick, he said. Then the body
learned the rhythm of waves,
and synchronized.
.
Esmé Kaplan-Kinsey is a California transplant studying creative writing in Portland, Oregon. Their work appears or is forthcoming in publications such as SmokeLong Quarterly, JMWW, and Gone Lawn. They are a prose reader for VERDANT, a mediocre guitarist, an awe-inspiring procrastinator, and a truly terrible swimmer. They can be found on X/Instagram @esmepromise.