Out on the Dark Water
by Sarah Johnston
When God was real, he made breakfast in the ocean
And his egg whites floated out into jellyfish.
We collected them, then, in our fishing-net frying pans
Until our aunt called us all back for dinner.
She said it was salmon, caught somewhere in the Sound,
And she pushed the skin until gray gave way to pink.
Our aunt had a recipe for everything, we said, Dutch babies
That climbed and crisped around the skillet like
Mountains, and black coffee stained by sweet hemp cream.
While she cut the fish, we had our hands in a blackberry
Bush, fruity stains dripping all down our legs. We ate that meal
Until the sun set around us in five directions.
My aunt once told me that in a past life I drowned in the sea.
How fated, then, was it that when she said it, my eyes
Were cast out to the Sound, watching the eggy limbs of jellyfish
Light up the dark water like lamps.