ARS POETICA ON A CONCRETE CHICAGO BEACH
by Emma Younger
it is may, not a chicago beach day, but the new heat urges us to make it so. sierra texts: do you need a beach towel?
i’ve already got mine wrapped around a kombucha for us to share.
before the sun traces the lines of my one piece into my body, sierra layers sunscreen over them. she exclaims THE
FRECKLES HAVE ARRIVED and even though it is may, it is now
SUMMER, thank you freckles. sierra’s skin is tanned and two curls have come undone from her bun. her gentle
hands on my shoulders a reminder of the 8 years we have shared diary entries & beach trips.
everyone toes the concrete beach, swimsuits mismatched with boxers, no one wants to be the first in, but sierra
and i, in our most primal pacific northwest nature, yearn for the chill of the ocean.
yearn for hair salt licked in ocean brine, chill bone deep with sunshine few and far between. a lake still gives us a
kiss, reaching out and touching each other’s faces like little kids backstage at a recital.
and so, a lake for two landlocked girls will make do for now.
i am dreaming of the poem before i jump.
then, lake michigan’s cold. it is not ocean cruel, and we forgive her immediately.
lake water floods in and my eyes can barely open and sierra is encouraging me to swim towards the
ladder and i am gasping as i hoist myself onto our concrete beach.
in may we don’t swim for long, but for now it’s good enough that we’ve jumped.
Emma Younger (she/her/hers) is originally from Portland, OR, now writing and reading in Chicago, IL. She is currently interested in cats, folk music, sparkling water, and the mirco and the macro-- where the individual meets the universal in her work. @emmarain27 on insta. @emmaraincloud on twitter.