the water is deafness |
pulling a string |
of silence out of my |
ears / when she slips |
under the surface each |
time I am frozen & |
moving /she dips/ the |
water grabs her /this |
deafness slicing me |
dragging me naked |
my body granulates |
disintegrates & bends |
/her eyes have |
changed they have lost |
sunlight / mine lost |
to these anxieties |
of motherhood how |
tomovequickenough / |
I can not dive cannot |
/repeat/ cannot unsee |
the fingertips pressing |
her eyes closed / water |
pulls salt from her |
mouth & [jump] |
Born and raised outside Rochester, New York, Erin Koehler graduated from SUNY Geneseo in 2015 with a B.A. in English (creative writing) and a minor in Native American studies. Her poetry has been featured in Terrain, The Susquehanna Review, and Gandy Dancer, and was selected for the Adroit Journal Editor's List for the 2015 Prize for Poetry. Erin currently resides in Boston, Massachusetts, where she hopes to pursue a career writing children's literature.