Caught in Bruces Mouth
We spent my first Jaws summer landlocked
which was good, because fear wore off
quick. I replaced it with close study.
How the size. Why the jaw. New Jersey
beach terror of 1916. Bull. Rogue. Frenzy.
My father said the sound went mostly empty
the year the fiction broke. Shaw wrote
his own monologue. Indianapolis capsized,
ocean a sharp grave: death by thirst,
death by salt, death by shark. No beach
for me. Just a lakes mucky lips. Lucass head
caught in Bruces mouth. Amitys hysteria
a spring wound back on itself. I sat, rapt,
hungry for jerk and pull and scream. Tape
trapped in VCRrewinding.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 38 | Fall 2012