I sit on the umbrella of the jellyfish
Always respectfully declining its sting.
Its tentacles unfurl like flames from its bell,
it swallows and swaddles me into an inner hell.
You run two fingers down the banister
of the white sturgeon's body.
You’re told not to touch her tail or fin.
told not to touch the places that remind me of him.
How do I unlearn everything he taught me?
How do I leave his teachings at doorsteps and welcome mats?
I sink, and I suffocate. I’ve lost all knowledge of how to be
As the curtain closes, the final line, “It’s not you, it’s me”
I remember the words of Daisy Buchanan that I once thought were cruel,
but like a jellyfish, without a brain, I too wish to be a “beautiful little fool”