Scott Ferry

Velella: free-drifting hydrozoas that, under the whim

of the elements, may be beached by the thousands

It becomes a chorus; we all join in because so much

depends on this. Sorry, William Carlos, the wheelbarrow

sleeps and we sing! Because she is only six, because caramel

ice cream sandwiches adorn our hands, because grand drips of now

cascade from the opening sky, because there is wind.

We have a Hello Kitty kite that just might break

in the thirty-mile-an-hour gusts on Nehalem Beach, sea a crush of steel glass, sand brailling into our shins. Molly unrolls the string all the way

and the plastic diamond goes up—nothing to wait for, no more caution,

no threat of Hades coming to snatch Leilani from these spring pastures

right in front of her mother! Really there is no limit to this, only this,

kite taut, streaking to the moon, Lani’s mouth a choir

jumping, arms interpreting straight skyward.

Until, as every short clip on Youtube, it ends, becomes prohibitive

to stay with gristle in the eyes, burns on the ankles. She hands the

pink handle to me, runs to the water past thousands of silvery

velella bodies cast on the beach. Carcasses of the many minutes

waiting for water and wind to bring

us here.

Scott Ferry helps our veterans heal as an RN. Recent work appears in Cultural Weekly, KYSO Flash, and Swimming with Elephants, among others. He was a finalist in the 2019 Write Bloody chapbook contest. His collection The Only Thing That Makes Sense Is to Grow will be published by Moon Tide Press in January 2020.