Atlantic Skin

         I wrote this poem in the Macalester library, when I was procrastinating about writing an academic paper (this is ironically how I produce some of my best creative work). It was the second semester of my sophomore year and I was enrolled in a Crafts of Fiction class, of which this poem had nothing to do with.
        I have always been inspired by the poetry of the ocean. Two large bodies of water have played a prominent role in my life, the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. I grew up in Brooklyn, right on the Atlantic. I went to Coney Island frequently as a child, although New York is not known for it's wonderful beaches. My mother grew up in San Juan, Puerto Rico, along the Caribbean Sea. There was a very dominant beach culture there and she spent her adolescence watching surfers on the beach. I have been visiting my family in San Juan since I was three months old and although I have never been an exceptional swimmer I have always loved taking in the waves. My name also means "of the sea" in latin, and my mother's means "white wave." Perhaps our names were prophetic of our watery futures.


Atlantic Skin

She tattooed a quote about the sea
in the willowy space
Above her pubic bone
She explained it to her lovers
When they undressed her
tracing the letters with their tongues
She judged men based on their attention spans
If they listened they would stay
But if they removed their clothing too hurriedly
They only wanted to splash into her
leaving, once their fingers pruned from the water
She always let them
Hoping that the salt would seep into their pores
That they would always be drawn to
The jagged rocks of her shore
Her smoothed sea glass
But instead they collected pebbles
And shells
They took spotted crabs
Placing them in their heavy pockets
Putting them on mantles
Until no more algae grew
Till fish skeletons
Adorned the surface
“All life came from water”
she would tell them.
“Mother ocean
not Mother Earth”