Prick of the Spindle: Poetry: Blakeslee: Sharp Water

Sharp Water
By Vanessa Blakeslee

Sanibel Island, menacing
in the hour before dawn:
the palms erased,
the driveways of stilt-houses
burnt black even in the shadows,
the herons beached on the sands.
We climb the steps on tiptoe,
even though
no one is left but us.
Inside, a moldy teakettle.
Nearby rests a wet power cord.
The water skims sharp around our ankles.
You grimace and grab my shoulder.
A banner of blood-red toilet paper
sticks to a lone, floating sandal.
The stained ceiling fan
creaks in a circle.
The wind stills to silence.
The air fills with the odor
of scummy oak.

Vanessa Blakeslee received an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in Harpur Palate, The Bellingham Review, The Georgetown Review, The New York Quarterly, and Southern Poetry Review, among others. She directs Maitland Poets & Writers, a community organization dedicated to fostering the growth of the literary arts in Central Florida. Find Vanessa online at www.vanessablakeslee.com.