4 POEMS by mariel fechik


In my dream everything was glossy                 smooth plastic            pool blue

                   and a terrier was barking      at the moon.         Your hand was slick

        with sweat                and possibly             gin                     and probably the

last time it would        hold mine.         Sharks feel this way             too             at

                        the end of          the night              when there’s no more     someone

                                    to eat                       or                          love.


in that dream you were a fish,
orange and oversaturated

with the blue of it all.

in that dream you were also the water,
piling on top of yourself

in an effort to feel safe.

at the end of that dream,
you were the seabed,

littered with scales.

half sleep

the water is pulling   and blue     like taffy, saltwater,   and my arms are weak

where you    yanked me     out from under.     I stayed too long, I understand,

but    it was beautiful    down there     in the half light    half    breath     half

lungs     bubbling in the    seafoam     and I didn’t want          to come home


you opened me like a grapefruit

            and all i’ve done since then is

drip sugar and acid

            but i still can’t forget your hands

when they peeled back my skin

            how sweet they were

mariel fechik lives in chicago, il. she sings in the band fay ray and is a music writer for atwood magazine and third coast review. she was recently chosen as a finalist for the real good poem prize from rabbit catastrophe review. her work has appeared or is forthcoming in hobart, rust + moth, sundog lit, glass: a journal of poetry, and others.