I.
I expected more desert than dripping, green oasis
surprised by my own assumptions
and there she was
the first love of my life
(after my mother, of course)
mariah
getting to know each other at 13 in the open-palmed,
throats wide, bleeding hearts way only young girls can
raw
and so deeply lost in ourselves
friends bound by eleven years
II.
she is 24! it is so lovely to see her and she is 24. the last
time I saw her she was 23, but standing in the airport she is
24. we hadn’t seen each other since she was 23, I was 24
already but she was still 23. I hadn’t been able to see her.
but at the airport it’s her 24th birthday. I hadn’t seen her.
III.
she hits her JUUL what used to be cigarettes what used to
be weed. I hit her JUUL, which for me would normally just
be weed. beautiful tile and river stones in the shower and
love-made breakfasts in the old city for this beautiful
birthday. loving to travel yet somehow never had we
traveled together, meeting here
IV.
after dubious snack of lemon power bar and minced
mushroom we beheld each other we beheld the land I
beheld the girl I know transform through every pain which
coats our world our fathers had died within months of
each other our mothers were tricked by great age
differences and now she travels to nurse travels because
she is in great demand because she is in great power she
nurses because she is great sacrifice she is great
V.
we beheld the land, a great bay
a hike directly up up
steps sitting on vertical steps
up up
the wet air permeating my cells until I am but soaked and
counting the breaths
against the beating blood
coming up
up
to see the whole of the bay arms of earth cradle the ocean a
deep blue full of tessellating trees of the sunlight refracting
the rain forest leaves vibrating against blessed sunrays a harmony
VI.
I follow the nurse, who is her mother, but is also her,
down the steps, sweating, dripping the air buzzes
around my boundaries my edges walking down the steps I
feel my breathing shake my heart the beating shakes
my chest shaking the blood in my brain between my
ears a butterfly flashing and white we walk down the concrete steps jungle lush and wet around us
VII.
having come down but now appropriately come up, we
strip to swimsuits and search for the body softest mother
I have known blue and green and lapping. cradled in
primordial wet I blend with the water the greens somehow
matching perfectly and I vanish I see myself disappear in
the water every need focused around this one desire now
delivered playing in my own happiness wanting to
split apart
to be able to retain.
I feel the greatest calm surge up and through myself into
the atoms of water which my fingers and legs graze. softly
held in the first womb arch-oceanic basin the repeating
geometry of its bottom floated up a soaked flower-of-life
opening and closing and twisting
VIII.
from the shore she watched me play so much love flowed
through us, two fixed points along the undulating seam of
knowing, seeing the earth sealed off with brick and poured
cement, seeing the reverberance of our loving of our pride
in each other shake the air shake the earth leaving trees in
peals of laughter giving a renewed freshness to all who
passed us together four wings of one white butterfly
unable to go unnoticed
Anna Bagoly (Ah-na BUH-goy) is Hungarian-American and just completed their MA in Poetry at USM. They are fascinated with recreating memories that immerse in sensation and imagery, blending poetry and creative nonfiction to create new forms. They’ve been published in dead peasant, Wingless Dreamer, Black Spot Books, won the Memorial Fellowship at Heavy Feather Review, and have recorded a piece with the Mississippi Coalition Against Sexual Assault.