Afloat

I should have been born a jellyfish.

Vinyl sky blue kneelers

scratched at my bare knees.

Maroon indentations.

Women in frumpy floral dresses

side eyed me as I sunk

further and further into the floor.

The church was a mammoth.

Fangs dripped and grated,

but I could float by as its muzzle sniffed out abominations

hidden like eels in mud and clay.

If I had been born a jellyfish,

I'd have had an excuse

for floating adrift.

A ghost gliding

meager and ethereal

Translucent tentacles dancing

Jolted only by the waves.

I'd floated my whole life

past pretty blonde girls,

past parties, dances and dates.

The little girl who needed to hide sleeps now,

even as church ladies whisper and the wind whips

against her back.

She won't be waking up tomorrow.