My Life: Abridged
The vineyard’s vines never
stop, strings pulled taut
across California’s whole.
When thighs rub
together, there’s no sound,
but the pain
amplifies with each step.
Don’t be scared when the tide
exposes hundreds of sandcrabs
burrowing down, way down. Who
wants to be caught running?
I watch the Rose Parade twice
on New Year’s Day; think of
touching so many flowers all
at once. Pick dandelions
in the outfield. Blood versus
clear liquids. Still afraid
of bees, my foundation
drips. Two Pringles
make a duck bill: salt
dust stings my lips. I can’t
stop mocking
myself.
*
Polly Conway is a writer and editor based in Alameda, CA. Her poems have appeared in 400 Words, Tellus, and Monday Night, and she is the Poetry Editor at Nulla, a multimedia journal based in San Francisco. She has taught writing through Take My Word For It and Mentor Artists Playwrights Project. She founded the East Bay Dipping Society, an open water dipping collective, and holds an MFA from California College of the Arts. She is currently working on a poetry collection about her time in the ocean and will be a resident writer at Ou Gallery on Vancouver Island in 2026.
This poem is terrific! Both profound and humorous…