Wind barreling through the lake’s alcove
bobbing on a plank two feet
above that blue-green shimmer.
Water so frigid the pit of my stomach slumps
My sister’s taunt looming in my ears:
“Chicken, chicken, you’re a little chicken.”
My feet soar inches above the water, and
I plunge deep into its cold, reaching fingers.
I am no chicken.
Fourth of July:
A trestle suspended above the water;
the chance of a train stumbling onto my path.
Ropes tangle in the metal below my feet, used
to swing above the waves.
One wrong step and my foot will plummet
towards the glassy ripples.
A piercing shriek from the tunnel ahead,
the oncoming train inching its way
up the sideways ladder.
My eyes snap shut and my foot creeps forward.
Down I jump into the green below.
Boat full of watchful eyes
follow my every move.
on a saucer
filled with air,
bouncing over foam
shrieking above the roar.
A surge of white
blasts me sideways
My mouth fills with water,
My swimming suit bottoms
float by in the waves.