Volume 14:4, Fall 2013
Prose Poem Issue
Salt water exfoliates the suburban from your skin as sun takes hold of your face with a discrete harshness. Waves in your unconscious tell you theres something valuable you left on the beach blanket. Grandma’s opal earrings, favorite shoes, nonspecific keys. You sprint. Water engulfs your family’s tiny camp. Umbrella, boombox, towels, cooler, mom’s sun hat all swept up in static. Youre in up to your knees, half-swimming. Things come back haphazardly. Think about your ancestors’ ashes in the Atlantic, soft serve in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles, cotton candy apples of dad’s eye while eating pizza hotter than a head of dark hair, beating your brother at ring toss, too scared to ride the roller coaster.
Danielle Evennou grew up in suburban New Jersey. For over a decade, she has hosted poetry readings, workshops, and open mics in Washington, DC. Her poetry and memoirs have appeared in apt, Dryland, Gargoyle, Blue Collar Review, Split Lip Magazine. She is the author of the chapbook Difficult Trick (Dancing Girl Press, 2017). Her website is http://www.whatevennou.com. To read more by this author, see her essay on mothertongue from the Literary Organizations Issue; and her poem in the Mapping the City issue.