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Miami Beach in February

Emma Reyes

                                              For Aimee

How is it

that you exist

so far

inside me?

The pink

of your nails


like fairy dust.

I lined shells

down your chest

and they grew

from your 

body like sweat.

Sticky with sunblock

and salt water,

I kissed you

and thought

about the softness

in your thighs.

I want one moment.

I want it to be that one.

Lying on your

big blanket,

almost wishing

you had brought

the one your grandma

made you—


with period blood.

Covered in air,

I lay 


every piece of you

the sun allows.

I hope the wind

can forgive me

for wanting it

to stop.

Wanting to be

ever present

in the staleness

of our breath

and the sand

stuck to your


damp legs.

Maybe I want

another moment.

The one right before.

When we walked

into the water

together and your

body was stronger

than mine.

I applied

my sunscreen

touching myself

the way you

did in the morning,

with hands of 

almost heat.

I watched you

disappear into

the wet.

You were

holding yourself.

Emma Reyes is a poet from Miami, FL. She is currently an MFA candidate at Florida State University.

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