Anti-Elegy for Cheryl Araujo

I played pool today, Cheryl,

laughed without hesitation

with each sunken cue stroked

the expanse of green worsted-wool.

The sick I should feel

gone.

I’m red-lipped, welcoming

the thrill of chase.

Everything is about desire.

I pretend you left home

willfully

for serenity of the ocean—

live beachside, still.

Your only Google hit

announces you as mother

of an honor student.

I, too, dreamt of escape—

of emerging reborn

from foaming surf,

body sluicing shallows

to you, waiting down shore

lit Marlboro in your lips.

No pay phones. No need

to call. Only sand so soft

it slips from our skin

claiming nothing for itself.

Only us

women who inhale

with each wave

as if they alone

control the breaking

we shed our dresses

and the sun rises

to warm us.

Liz Harms is a poet and intersectional feminist from Arkansas. She earned her MFA from the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, where she now serves as the Managing Editor for Ninth Letter. Harms’ manuscript, Object, was named by Juan Felipe Herrara as a finalist for the 2023 Philip Levine Prize for Poetry from California State University, Fresno and Anhinga Press. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming from Prairie Schooner, 3Elements Review, Noble / Gas Qtrly, and Duende.