In the pool I float on my back. The water is so chlorinated that when shower it off afterwards my eyes burn from the run-off. I float on my back in the pool in the south and look at the sky.
There are cats that live in the courtyard. Eight of them. A ninth showed up last week but there are only ever eight piles of food, so. The last cat is black and white. Larger. Everyone knows he’s not meant to be here.
On my back I see a too blue sky. There is dark around the edges. I am pleased by it and worried. The darkness and rumbles. If I don’t see the girl. Whose name is probably Jenna. Straight hair in a straight cut. The word which looks so much like another.
-Anne Marie Rooney, from Shell of an Egg in an Effort, forthcoming from Birds of Lace