on the island of my    youth, performing    penance    

    under clouds, a wooden bridge    

rises    from the shaded path.    a treasure trail

    i use to hide from    exposure to the    sun.

circle the    x on my    map. the furtive curve of    

    wood over the belly-    button lake    

is dolloped by    a boy & his    

    friend,    a large & horned secret 

held between them:    shiny rhinoceros

    beetle, its thick    trunk the boys’    hard prize.    

i wield a long    stick, carve my    envy over  

    rocks. i lack the    girth to join the club.    the boys 

pass   with hushed excitement. an impenetrable    

    huddle. a summer heat-    born cave       

of bare    chests, bare    shoulders, wings of 

    muscle    wrapped around their    

charming spines,    callused    

    fingers cupping their    discovery    the size of my    

fist, my     jealousy. my jealousy alive    & im-

    possible to swallow. my     alive feels 

impossible. can’t swallow my    desire. my    

    yearning an    animal    i catch with my    

two hands & then    let go.

Marion Eames White is a crustacean living off the coast of Massachusetts. Their first full-length collection “Museum of the Unladen Swallow” is forthcoming (Purple Palm Press, 2023).