We were taught oysters have pearls
That starfish are self-healers
That Acacia trees can warn each other of danger
and that you can’t actually die in quicksand
I know this to be as true
as the way sun shows on my skin at 30
Truth moves like tectonic plates through this body that I’m told has high blood pressure lately
Mostly that Hazen Street, is Babylon
Without an olive tree
Sharing psalms because
God says even the darkness is not dark to him
But
Caged birds don’t sing in 24 hour lock down
and seeing white shirts turn red isn’t actually like Pulp Fiction
You know, I know what red cheeks feel like too
I’ve had a latte with grief
and when I feel heavy I push my belly
out
In the Atlantic
Let me be an amoeba
The reef whispers, there’s no sharpness here
Choral cries too
and jellyfish move when they’re understood
I tell her me too
Me too
Me too
Tara Hiteshew is a published poet and social worker living in New York City. She writes and performs slam poetry throughout the city, drawing expression from the colorful people she cares for. She was most recently published in ALLARTS through PBS for her poem, "What My Backyard Looks Like," a poem about the correlation between growing up in Sandy Hook, Connecticut and New York City during the Pandemic. She loves words and the way the move on a page.