meredith miriam howe

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when the floods came 

i gave up my humanity.

i shed my skin and shifted.

one might think it was hard

but we’re already drowning here.

this land is full of leftover dreams

and scattered yearnings. an unholy mingling 

of identity and divination.

just add salt to our bloated bodies,

ignore the pressure as it circulates 

our systems. these waters washed away mountains 

filled with outrage. it started small, 

then it burst forth

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i gave up my legs

                there’s nowhere left to run so i swim to You

i traded in my fingers for fins

                 You didn’t like my touch anyways

i swim past the tops of cathedrals

                  but You remain out of reach

i stare at obscurity through blue-ringed eyes

                  i’ll never be able to perceive You

i imagine this is what was envisioned

                  how heavy You must have felt

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mouth open, i swallow humans whole.

this place is a graveyard, awash 

with broken ladders and languages.

i can forgive Leviathan for sharing these waters 

with me and the dead bodies.

creation is bloody, tenderness is not.

i thought it’d be lonely amidst the planets 

of despair. the stars flicker, they have not yet been doused.

i swim towards the moon and sun, a heartbeat of hope between us.

                  i long to speak with You

drifting through entanglements made of fishing 

nets and satellites, dodging boats and spaceships
crafted from teeth and other beasts

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a migration through the skies.

i swim through the clouds, shrouded and holy.

this godhood was born out of necessity,

this body out of spite.

i still find myself praying towards the Ark.

separated from the pod that brought me here,

i swim besides mothers who remember 

when we were human. this flood has cleansed

my soul. hymns echoing in the water,

                 i call out to You

 I swim
                                             I swim

                                                                                 I swim

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Biography: meredith miriam howe, born and raised in New Hampshire, U.S., lives with her two black cats, Orla and Gus. This is her first published poem.

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